


Once Upon A Fandom

by ShameTheDevil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare, Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Aladdin!Harry, Aurora!Newt, Beast!Will, Beauty!Tessa, Brenda&Gally&Newt&Teresa&Minho are siblings, Bruce&Bucky&Sam&Clint are housemates, Bucky&Sam are in the Avengers, Childhood Friends, Cinderella!Alec, Curses, Dark, F/M, Fairytales with a twist, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fred doesn't die (SPOILERS), Friendship, Gay, Ginny's a hoe, Hermione and Harry friendships, Hugs, I hate Jean Gray, Jessie & Tessa are baes, Kisses, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Murder attempt, NO ACTUAL MERMAIDS, Nat&Steve&Thor&Tony friendship, Natasha&Steve are baes, Nate's an arsehole, Orphans, Pre Serum! Steve, Protective! Bucky, Protective!Derek, Rape attempt if you squint, Skinny! Steve, SnowWhite!Stiles, Sophie's a warlock, Sorry Not Sorry, Violence, Werewolves, abusive families, badass Molly Weasley, coma's, everyone's a bit of a bitch in the second one, everyone's friends in the second one, fairytale!au, happy endings, idk how to tag, insecure! Steve, jessamine hates nate, little mermaid! Steve, no-magic in some stories, nothing surprises tessa, protetive! Thomas, void!Stiles, yeah basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:22:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 109,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShameTheDevil/pseuds/ShameTheDevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A servant that doesn't fall for the prince.<br/>A girl that's out to find her brother, and finds so much more.<br/>A boy who looks up to a hero, until he becomes a hero himself.<br/>A thief who steals someone's heart.<br/>A kiss that saves a life.<br/>A boy who will probably never be himself.<br/>Modern!Fairytales, with plot twists.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cinderalec

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted from Fanfiction.Net

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec is sick and tired of his life with his horrendous family, he wants to get away, any way he can. The only thing keeping him at home is his brother. When Alec's gets a wish, he asks for a night and a chance, and he gets so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO INCEST OK.

**Cinderalec**

_Alexander Gideon Lightwood could say that the first ten years of his life were a bliss. Well, at least compared to the other six. When he was ten, his mother, Maryse, passed away from cancer, and his father, Robert, couldn’t stand being alone with a little boy. He did try…at the beginning. But the little boy looked too much like his mother, was too gentle, too soft. He couldn’t stand it. So he started to drink._

_And drink…_

_And drink._

_In the end social services took Alexander away from him and placed him in an adoptive family two months after his thirteenth birthday, after the teachers at school reported that he came in with bruises up and down his pale arms. Again._

_The family he got placed in was far from ideal. But anything was better than that place. At least that’s what he told himself. The bruises never disappeared. He just got better at hiding them._

_Valentine Morgenstern was a wealthy businessman, respected and rich. He owned at least three expensive cars, his suits were always impeccable and he was always polite, if cold. Nothing wrong here._

_Yeah, right._

_Cheater._

_Lilith Morgenstern was the perfect lady of the house. She didn’t work, but attended charity parties with her friends, and drank tea with other high status ladies. She wore emeralds and pearls and diamonds, she wore long, classy dresses, she was charming and good to people. Nothing wrong here._

_Yeah, right._

_Cruel._

_Sebastian Morgenstern, the seventeen year old son of Lilith and Valentine. Dark eyes, light hair, captivating smile, the girls swooned over him, he helped old ladies cross the road, gave up his seat on the bus if he wasn’t driving his shiny car. Perfect grades, perfect boy. Nothing wrong here._

_Yeah, right._

_Sadist._

_Magnus Morgenstern, eighteen years old, the oldest son of the Morgenstern’s. Liked to party, art student at a fancy university, charming, polite, loved by everyone. A bit rough around the edges, sometimes late, girls swooned over him as well. Nothing wrong here._

_Nope._

_Perfect._

_Alexander Lightwood? That sixteen year old? Oh no, he’s not part of the Morgenstern family. He couldn’t possibly be. Goes to a public school, scruffy, drinks alcohol. No, surely it can’t be. The Morgenstern’s simply adopted him out of the goodness of their hearts, nobody could control a boy like that, even them. He’s the black sheep of the family, no good’s gonna come out of him._

_Yeah Right._

_Misunderstood._

The beeping filled the small attic room, bouncing off walls and assaulting Alec’s head. The sixteen year old groaned and buried his head in the pillow. He shouldn’t have been out drinking last night, he really shouldn’t have. In all honestly Isabelle, his best friend, did try to stop him. Didn’t work, obviously. Alec gave himself a minute to lie in bed, before slowly sitting up. He squinted at his bedside clock, his vision blurry, he face read 6:32 in the morning, his usual waking up time. School started at 9, but he had to do his morning chores before that. And last night’s chores. He groaned again and buried his face in his hands. Partying on a Thursday was definitely a very bad idea.

With a sigh Alec got up and winced as his bare feet touched the cold wooden floorboards. There was frost on the window and the radiator was off, even though he could’ve sworn he left it on last night. Fucking Sebastian, it was probably one of his ‘jokes.’

Ignoring the pounding in his head, and the freezing temperature of the room, Alec padded into the small bathroom attached to his tiny room. There was barely any room inside for a toilet and a shower cabin, but it would do. Alec quickly stripped off his pyjamas and avoided looking in the mirror. He stepped into the cabin and gritted his teeth at the even cooler temperature of the plastic under his feet. He cautiously stepped to the side and turned the water on, careful that the stream didn’t hit him directly. He proceeded to stick one hand under the water, and immediately withdrew it with a gasp. The water was more freezing than the temperature outside. Once again, fucking Sebastian. Alec could imagine the other boy smirking to himself, comfortable and warm in his bed, while his step brother froze his butt off in the shower after he turned the warm water off.

After two minutes Alec decided the water wouldn’t warm and speed washed instead. With his teeth clattering he quickly scrubbed himself down and washed his hair. He was out in three minutes, which beat his record, and accidently caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His midnight black hair was dripping with water, his lifeless blue eyes looked, well lifeless, his skin paler than usual, the shadows under his eyes…he winced when he saw the purple and yellow bruises on his ribs and arms. Being Sebastian’s punching bag was definitely one of his least favourite sports. He hurriedly pulled on an old t-shirt and his skinny ripped jeans, tugging a black and red flannel over it. He packed his bag for school, at the same time drying his hair with a towel. He just wanted to get to the kitchen and make breakfast for his family, it would be warm there and he could sneakily eat some bacon.

When he decided his hair was moderately dried, he walked out on the corridor. The house the Morgenstern’s lived in  was massive, it was a villa on the nice side of Idris, with a swimming pool, a spa and a ball room. There were framed pictures of the family hanging on the walls, in between the high, arched windows. He could see Sebastian and Magnus together in one of them, around the age of eight. Sebastian, all angular beauty and cold, black eyes, and Magnus with  his warm smile and messy hair. Lilith and Valentine, some ancestors he didn’t know the names of. Living with the Morgensterns wasn’t really that bad. Sure Sebastian was a cruel sadist, he punched and tormented Alec whenever he could, turned the water off and stole his clothes and Lilith did look at him like he was something stuck to her shoe, but overall Valentine and Lilith ignored him. If it wasn’t for Sebastian, life could be bearable. Maybe even good.

And then there was Magnus.

He definitely was the highlight of the family. He was the only person who treated Alec like an actual human being, and he seemed to hate his family almost as much as Alec did. When the family was not due for a party or a conference, Magnus was out of the house faster than lightning. But the two didn’t talk much, not really.

It was still dark in the house, it was early December, which meant longer nights, shorter days. Great, all Alec needed was shorter days to do all his chores. He was pretty sure he was already in plenty of shit for sneaking out yesterday. He rubbed a pale hand down his face as he relied on his instincts to lead him into the kitchen. Surprisingly the light was on in the room, so Alec slowed his step. He peeked round the corner to see who it was. He really wasn’t up for a beating so early in the morning.

He sighed with relief when he realised it was his favourite member of the family.

“Hey,” he muttered, leaning down to pick up a frying pan. Magnus didn’t answer, just continued leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. Alec glanced up at him and frowned, his head pounding,

“What?” he asked when Magnus continued to stare at him. His expression was annoyed and…worried?

“You came home late last night.”

Alec rolled his eyes, putting the pan on the stove and shuffling over to the fridge to get eggs and bacon, a lecture, great.

“Yeah so?” he asked, hoping to sound nonchalant and ignoring the way Magnus’ T-shirt clung to his muscles. The taller boy stood up straight and sighed, running a hand through his spiky hair,

“I’m just worried Alec,” he said coming closer to the other boy, “You’re out all the time.”

“Yeah so are you,” Alec muttered, breaking an egg onto the pan, ignoring his shaking hands. Magnus didn’t answer, instead he leaned forward and grabbed another egg, breaking it alongside Alec’s.

“I’ll make toast,” he said resignedly after a minute. They didn’t say much as they prepared breakfast, instead lapsing into a comfortable silence. It was little things like Magnus helping him make breakfast that made him appreciate this family. His father never made any breakfast with him. He usually stumbled in well past noon, piss drunk. Alec shook his head, clearing it  from the thoughts of his father and instead replaced them thought of Magnus. Lately he’s been feeling weird around the other guy, his heart was all fluttery and weird and he blushed whenever Magnus smiled. Everyone knew he was gay, but he never had a boyfriend, not when everyone knew he was different from the Morgensterns. Money, power, fame. That didn’t matter to him. He only wanted to be loved, seriously, that’s all he wanted. If someone just…

“Alec! You’re burning the food!” Magnus yelled pushing Alec out of the way. Sure enough, Alec was too absorbed in his thoughts to pay attention to the breakfast. Thankfully Magnus quickly turned off the flame before any damage could be made. He turned to Alec with a disapproving look .

“Sorry,” Alec mumbled, flushing. Magnus didn’t scold him, just sighed.

“You’re really out of it lately,” he stated. Alec just shrugged, and hugged himself. Unfortunately that caused his sleeve to ride up, exposing a nasty bruise above his wrist. Something flashed in Magnus’ eyes and he was by the younger boy in seconds, rolling the sleeve of the flannel up to his elbow, and examining the bruise. He gripped Alec’s pale arm tightly, but the other boy snatched it back, and quickly rolled his sleeve down. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Magnus’ eyes filled with anger.

“I’ll kill that bastard,” he stated angrily, making his way to the door. Red alarms flared in Alec’s brain. If Magnus beat up Sebastian then he would get the blame, because…well…he’s Alec. Before he knew what he was doing he was reaching for Magnus, and tugged on his sleeve.

“It’s okay, seriously…you don’t, um, have to…I, um…just…” he stuttered. Magnus’ glared at him for a split second and then his face softened and he moved back into the kitchen,

“I’ll get him back later,” he said with a small smile. He reached into a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of some kind of medicine, “roll your sleeves up,” he commanded. Alec blinked at me, and blushed again,

“Um, no – I, um…it’s fine…” he looked down at the floor, suddenly interested in his batman socks.

“Alexander.”

Alec flinched visibly,

“D-don’t call me that,” he whispered. The atmosphere in the room thickened so much Alec was sure he could slice it with a knife. Only his mom used to call him Alexander, and she was gone, so was that name.

“Sorry,” Magnus said softly, placing the medicine next to Alec. He hesitantly reached for the boys sleeves, where they were pulled over his hands. When Alec didn’t pull back so he slowly rolled them up to his elbows, but could only see one or two bruises, “You might wanna take that off,” Magnus said, awkwardly coughing into his hand. Alec’s entire face was beet red, this was the closest him and Magnus were _ever_. Actually this was the closest he’s been to anyone except his biological parents and Izzy. No one was exactly up to befriend the weird brother of the Morgensterns. Except Isabelle, she was just a rebel like that.

 Trying desperately to keep his heart in his chest, Alec shrugged off his flannel, leaving him in a thin, grey cotton t-shirt. Without a word Magnus opened the medicine and poured some onto his hand. He glared at the purple bruises decorating Alec’s arms and shoulders. Alec wanted to desperately reach for his shirt, but he was determined to remain unmoved, which was hard, especially when Magnus’ warm, strong hands spread the salve onto the bruises. Alec winced and bit his lip as he felt the cool liquid touch his heated skin. He let the older boy treat his bruises without a word. Magnus was gentle, careful, almost caring. _No don’t think that Alec, he doesn’t care about you, he’s just a good person_ … When he was done, Magnus wiped his hands on his jeans and passed him his flannel. Alec hurriedly pulled it on.

“Thanks.”

“That should heal them quicker,” Magnus said, his voice steady. He searched Alec’s face for a second before grinning and stepping back, “here, let me get that breakfast ready.” He gently moved Alec aside and went back to heating the eggs and bacon. Alec opened and closed his mouth a few times,

“Um… that’s my job…” He said. Magnus just rolled his eyes and passed him a tea cup,

“No its not. Anyway, you’ve got a hangover and a little cooking won’t hurt me. Now drink the tea, there’s some aspirin in the cupboard,” Magnus stated matter of factly, Bustling around the kitchen. Alec hid his blush behind the rim of the cup.

“He’s totally into you.” Isabelle stated simply, when three hours later Alec recalled the morning to her.

“No he’s not, he’s just really nice,” Alec muttered, hiding the bottom half of his face in the frayed blue scarf wrapped around his neck. Isabelle rolled her dark eyes, they were waiting for the bell, sitting on a bench by one of the old trees. Everyone else was inside because of the cold, but Alec liked to be as far away from people as possible, so he chose the weather over dirty looks, even if the wind nipped at his exposed skin. Isabelle looked flawless as usual, her hat matching her scarf. Alec looked like a homeless person, as usual. He  just wore his brothers’ old clothes, even though the Morgensterns had enough money to get him new ones, they just chose not to. He secretly didn’t mind because he got a chance to wear Magnus’ stuff. It was pathetic, really, his little crush on his step brother, but Alec couldn’t help him.

 “Honey, please, you’re so blind it hurts,” she stated, examining her nails as Alec sighed.

“Izzy, seriously, he’s not… _into me_ , or whatever,” Alec flushed, “why would he be? I mean he’s hot and popular and nice, and he gets good grades and has an awesome sense of style. Why the hell would he ever look at me twice?”

Izzy stared at him. She blinked, and sighed, “Oh my gosh, Alec, my blue eyed friend, you are so in love with this dude. And there’s plenty of reasons for him to look at you! I mean, you’re cute and charming and your blush is adorable, you make the best sandwiches ever and you listen to great music!”

“Iz, you’re an amazing best friend, but you’re really dumb if you think those things,” he said sadly, gathering his bags.

“It’s true though!” the girl protested, but the bell went and Alec was already walking towards the building, she shouted after him, “It’s totally like Cinderella!”

Alec turned on his heel and yelled back,

“Where’s my prince Charming then!”

School was a mess as usual. Apart from the usual dirty looks he got from his classmates his books got knocked down by Meliorn, one of the popular guys. Alec didn’t say anything as he knelt down to pick them up, cheeks burning in shame, but Izzy threatened to punch the boy. She was already excluded once this year because of fighting. Alec admired her, she was so brave, protecting him when he couldn’t do so himself. He slept through maths, his hangover catching up with him, and didn’t really write anything down. He and Izzy both bunked PE and decided to eat cupcakes under the bleachers instead. Raphael Santiago, one of the nicer boys in the school, let Alec copy his chem notes, so that was a highlight. Except for that nothing happened. At the end of the day Izzy and Alec parted ways, and the boy went onto the packed bus.

He was uncomfortably squeezed in between an old man, and a girl from a year below him. He was about to wedge his arm in between him and the girls back to put his earphones in, when he heard something that got his attention. Not too far from him were two collage girls, and they were not so subtly gossiping.

“Did you hear?” One of them asked the other, “About Jace Wayland?”

“Oh my gosh yes!” the other one gushed excitedly, Alec stared at the ground, trying to make it look like he wasn’t eavesdropping. He knew Jace Wayland was the son of a couple, Stefan and Celine, in the elite. He caught glimpses of him during some parties of the Morgensterns when he was giving out drinks and little party sandwiches, he was good looking, but he and Sebastian hated each other, they always competed for the same girls and the place of the hottest boy in school. Sebastian and Jace were in the same year, one above Alec, and he rarely saw them at school.

“Apparently he’s on the guest episode of, ‘ _Arranged_!’

“No way! That’s amazing! Wait does that mean we can get a chance to meet him?”

“Yeah, this year…”

Alec didn’t hear anything else because the two girls stepped off the bus. He didn’t know what Arranged was, but he made a mental note to ask Izzy about it tomorrow. He probably should’ve paid more attention to this piece of gossip, but frankly he didn’t care. Whatever the rich idiots were planning, it didn’t concern him. He drowned his thoughts in Fall Out Boy music, blaring from his earphones and bleeding into his already tired brain, leaving nothing but an ache in it.

When he got home there was a dark cloud hanging over his head. All he could think about was sleeping off his hangover in bed, but he knew he had a bunch of chores to do. Alec seriously felt like whacking his head against the wall. Repeatedly. He walked into the empty kitchen and checked the note on the fridge.

_Lightwood,_

_Here are your chores for today and yesterday. We are very disappointed that you have left the house without notifying either of us, and you will be punished for your disobedience. Here is the list of things to do before 10 pm tonight:_

_Wash the dishes_

_Prepare diner_

_Vacuum the house (attic included)_

_Clean out the swimming pool_

_Tidy Sebastian’s and Magnus’ bedrooms_

_Wash the floor in the ballroom_

_Clean the windows on the second floor and the parlour_

The list went on and on. Alec stuffed a fist into his mouth and screamed, he really wasn’t up for this. He hated how the Morgensterns treated him, like he wasn’t worth a damn. He ripped the post it note off the fridge and stuffed it in his pocket, and made his way upstairs. He was about to turn a corner when he heard the yelling,

“What do you mean you’re not participating?” Lilith shrieked, Alec froze, flattening himself against the wall, listening intently.

“Means I’m not going,” Sebastian answered back, his voice calm, cold, calculating.

“For once I agree with him,” Magnus butted in, his voice bored. Alec ignored the surge of warmth it sent through his heart.

“No. No,” the boy could hear his step mother pacing along the corridor, “I refuse to believe that the two of you could be so stupid. Jace Wayland is looking for a husband or a wife, and you two _idiots_ , want to turn him down?”

Alec has never heard Lilith speak like that to her sons, that’s how he knew this was important. He tried to lean forward to catch some more, but being as clumsy as he was, he tripped over his own feet and ended up sprawled on the floor. There was a beat of silence, then,

“LIGHTWOOD HOW DARE YOU EAVESDROP YOU INSULENT BOY!” Lilith screeched. Alec flinched, quickly getting to his feet. His step mother and Sebastian were both glaring at him, Magnus looked impassive. The blonde brother took a step towards him and Alec backed away from the menacing boy.

“I-um, I’m s-sorry, I…” he stuttered, moving backwards. Sebastian’s arm shot out and grabbed his shirt. The boy slammed Alec into the closest wall, causing the wind to be knocked out of the dark haired boy. He lifted him up, off the floor,

“You little piece of shit, how fucking dare you listen in on private conversations. You pathetic idiot, I will give you the fucking beating of your life, I swear to God-” Sebastian gritted through his teeth, but he didn’t get to finish before Magnus knocked him aside, causing Sebastian to knock against the banister of the stairs.

“Don’t. Touch. Him.”

Magnus towered over Sebastian, grabbing his shirt in a parody of what the blonde boy did to Alec seconds earlier. Sebastian’s eyes flashed with fear, before his mask was back on.

“Let me go, Magnus,” he hissed. Alec slid down the wall, his heart hammering in his chest, threatening to escape. Lilith looked between her two sons, her face red with rage.

“LET HIM GO MAGNUS!” she yelled, but didn’t make a move to separate her sons. Magnus ignored her, fist tightening in Sebastian’s expensive shirt. His younger brother looked like a rag doll in his grip.

“Let him go, Magnus,” Alec said softly, his legs shaking as he stood up. For a second nothing happened and then Magnus loosened his fist and Sebastian dropped to the floor in a heap. He glared at his brother, and Lilith massaged her temples.

“We will return to this topic later,” she said as if nothing happened, “Alec, bring me a green tea and aspirin at once,” she ordered. Magnus hands twitched at his sides,

“No he won’t bring you tea, _mother_ ,” he spat the last word, grabbing Alec’s wrist gently, but firmly. He proceeded to pull the stunned boy along the corridor.

“What do you mean?! Where are you taking him?! Magnus answer me at once!” Lilith yelled after them. Magnus rolled his eyes,

“We’re going out.”

“Where?!” His mother asked, exasperated.

“ _Out_ ,” Magnus stated, pulling Alec into his room.

“I’m sorry about that,” Magnus said opening his wardrobe and rummaging through it. Alec awkwardly plopped down on his bed.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, gripping Magnus’ purple covers in his hands tightly, “I-um, thanks for defending me…”

“It was about time someone put that idiot in his place,” Magnus answered with a charming, warm smile in place as he emerged from the wardrobe, he was carrying an armful of clothes in his arms. He spread them on the bed, and began sorting through them.

“So, um, what did you guys argue over?” he asked, to break the silence. Magnus sighed,

“You heard about Arranged, right?” Magnus asked, his voice lifeless,

“Not really,” Alec admitted, shrugging.

“Basically it’s a TV show where rich bastards choose twenty people to go live with them in a mansion, and then they eliminate the ones they don’t like, until there’s one left, and they get married to them,” Alec cringed and Magnus grinned, “I know _sooo_ romantic. Anyway, Jace Wayland, you know who that is?” Alec nodded quickly, “Yeah well, he’s on the special episode. So he’s organising a ball where everyone’s invited and in one night he chooses his fiancé.” Alec gaped at him,

“In _one night_?!” he stammered, Magnus nodded solemnly, “Let me guess, your mom wants you to go?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Magnus said tightly, indicating that the conversation was finished. He suddenly brightened up and threw a couple pieces of clothing at Alec, “change into that.”

Alec blinked at him, clutching the clothes. Magnus grinned at him mischievously,

“I wasn’t lying we’re really going out! Now hurry up and change.”

“I’m not really a party type,” Alec stated, playing with the hem of his shirt, correction, Magnus’ shirt. They were comfortably seated in Magnus’ car, soft dubstep was playing from the speakers and Magnus was drumming a beat to it on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change to green.

“Stop complaining. I bet you’ve never been to one before,” he said simply, smiling at Alec. The black hair boy blushed because, admittedly, he hadn’t. Still, he felt ridiculous and uncomfortable in the blue t-shirt, jeans that weren’t ripped, a leather jacket and boots. They were all Magnus’ clothes so he had to make a few adjustments to them, to make them fit. The older boy looked perfectly, well, perfect, in his bright purple button down shirt and loose tie. Still, Alec was happy to embrace any reason to get out of the mansion, which included going to a party with Magnus Bane. He cringed at himself, parties meant dancing, and Alec was definitely not the most graceful human being. That would be Magnus.

They pulled up to a large house, similar to the Morgensterns, which was strangely quiet. Maybe the party hasn’t started yet? Magnus hopped out of the car, and Alec tumbled out after him,

“C’mon, I want you to meet someone,” Magnus said, waving Alec over and knocking on the white painted doors. Alec shyly followed him, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The door swung open and a girl stepped forward, smiling welcomingly at them.

“Magnus darling!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around the said boy. Alec only had time to note her chin length white hair, before he was being pulled into a hug, the girl squeezing him happily like they were long lost friends, “You must be Alec! Magnus told me so much about you!”

“ _Catarina_!” Magnus hissed as Alec blushed, fidgeting.

“Sorry, sorry,” she winked, “I’m Catarina Loss, Magnus’ best friend!”

“Oh hell no! _I’m_ Magnus’ best friend, swerve Cat!” a boy yelled, pushing past Catarina to throw his arm around Magnus. He had dark eyes and messy hair, which was also white,

“This is Ragnor,” Magnus said rolling his eyes at his friend, “guys, this is Alec.”

“ _Oh, we know_ ,” the two said at the same time, giving Magnus twin pointed looks. Magnus glared at them and opened his mouth to say something, but Catarina already had her arm around Alec and was leading him inside,

“Let’s leave those two idiots to themselves, I need some help with the snack, care to help?”

“I-um, sure…” Alec said hesitantly, following the girl into the kitchen as Ragnor and Magnus argued outside.

Skip forward two and a half hours later, and here we are. The huge house is brewing with people, some in t-shirts in jeans, others in dresses and suits, and yet others in onesies or neon clothes. Alec didn’t expect so many people to show up, but he guessed that Catarina was obviously popular.

He was actually enjoying himself, he drank a beer, and sat in the corner, content with his apple juice. He didn’t want to get drunk…again. Everywhere around him people were pissed, couples making out, people stumbling round, half naked, others dancing like there’s no tomorrow. A couple of people were passed out in corners, and Alec lost track of Catarina and Ragnor and Magnus a long time ago. Sometimes he saw a flicker of white hair, but he didn’t want to bother the hosts with his social skills. Or rather, the lack of them.

So yeah, he was sitting in a corner, content with his apple juice, when a girl came towards him, stumbling slightly. She was kind of drunk, but not totally and he plopped down next to Alec.

“Hey,” she yelled over the music, smiling brightly at Alec, her green eyes sparkling.

“Hi,” Alec answered, scanning the crowd for anyone who he knew.

“I came to talk to you because you seemed kinda lonely,” the girl said, flipping her curly hair over her shoulder, “I’m Clary. Clary Fray.”

“Alec.”

“Ohhh,” Clary smiled, “You’re _that_ Alec.”

“What _Alec_?” Alec snapped. Clary’s smile turned mischievous,

“Magnus’ Alec.”

Alec choked on air, his eyes going wide, but before he knew what was going on, Clary was gone, the place next to him replaced by a different girl. She was dressed in a neon pink dress and was smiling at him sweetly,

“Hey, I’m Maureen, wanna dance?” she asked, already tugging on his hand.

“I, um, c-can’t dance,” Alec stuttered, but he was already in the cluster of people. Bodies pressed around him from all sides and his nose was assaulted by the smell of alcohol and sweat. He tried to make himself smaller, but anywhere he turned, there were people. Maureen was wildly dancing to the beat, her attention on someone else. Alec stood awkwardly in the moving mass of bodies for about a minute, before ducking under someone’s arm, determined to find an exit.

That, however, was not meant to be, because someone flailed their arm suddenly and sent Alec sprawling into a wall. His body ached with old and new bruises and Alec winced. He really just wanted to be out in the fresh air, but he didn’t want to risk getting trampled to death. Thankfully his salvation came, in the form of his step brother.

“Magnus!” Alec called, before he could stop himself. Magnus looked up, his eyes focusing on Alec, he smiled and pushed through the crowd, making it to Alec.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked casually, a cheshire grin on his face. Alec blushed, now that Magnus was here, he didn’t know what to say to him. _Can we go home please?_ Sounded great in theory, but he didn’t want to ruin the other boys evening, not when he tried so hard to get him out of the house.  Suddenly the music was turned down and Ragnor’s voice boomed over the chatter of the people,

“Now a slow jam for all my couples out there!” he called and the crowd erupted into cheers. The music was turned up again, and this time something soft and slow was playing. The lights dimmed even more and some candles were lit, giving off a warm glow. Ragnor grabbed Catarina’s hand and dragged her into the middle of the room, they began to sway, slightly drunkenly, to the music. Soon more and more couples joined them, and a few single people, dancing with friends or in groups.

“Come dance with me,” Magnus said suddenly. The blue eyed boys heart skipped a beat and he frantically shook his head, but before he could utter a word Magnus was already pulling him into the crowd. Alec was thankful for the lighting choice because he was sure Magnus would’ve seen his blush otherwise. His thought track was cut short when Magnus’ arm unexpectedly went around his waist, his free hand grabbing Alec’s and linking their fingers together. Alec made a surprised sound and quickly looked down, avoiding Magnus’ eyes. Magnus gently pulled him closer and, not knowing what to do with himself, Alec’s hand went up to Magnus’ shoulder, clutching onto his shirt. Magnus chuckled and Alec blushed even more, burying his face where his hand was. They began turning in soft circles and Alec’s eyes fluttered shut as Magnus’ hand moved to the small of his back. The smaller boy had no idea how much time had passed since he found himself in Magnus’ arms but he was sure that they were the best – minutes? Hours? – of his life. Magnus’ arms felt strong around him and he felt safe, like Sebastian and Lilith and Valentine, and their anger and hatred couldn’t get him there. Without realising it he pressed closer to the taller boy, and peeked over his shoulder. Ragnor was twirling Catarina close by, and the girl grinned and winked at him.

When  the song did eventually end, Alec pulled away hurriedly, his cheeks flaming. The beat came back on and more bodies packed themselves onto the dance floor.

“Let’s go home,” Magnus said, leaning in whispering into Alec’s ear so the boy could hear him. Alec ignored the shiver that went through him and nodded, grabbing onto Magnus’ hand instinctively, to not get lost in the crowd. He panicked and tried to pull his hand away, but Magnus just smiled reassuringly and laced their fingers together again. The two began to weave their way through the bodies, avoiding people as much as they could. Magnus found Catarina and Ragnor in the corner, taking shots, and he let them know that they were leaving. Catarina kissed both of them on the cheek and Ragnor waved at them, and just as they were about to walk through the front door Catarina grabbed Magnus and whispered something into his ear.

Seconds later they were outside. The cold air hit Alec’s flushed face, but it did nothing to calm the fast beating of his heart. Magnus let go of his hand to quickly and Alec desperately wanted it back, but he didn’t say anything. The two of them piled into the car and Magnus turned on the radio, humming along to whatever was playing. Wheels turned in the younger boys head, and he thought of something to say. In the end Alec couldn’t muster the courage to open his mouth, so he dosed off.

The next morning Alec woke up with no recollection of how he got to bed, damn he couldn’t even remember getting out of the car. He surveyed his room lazily and noticed that his jeans were neatly folded on the dresser. A flush crawled up his face, because the only explanation was that Magnus had taken them off, Alec hadn’t been drunk enough to do it and not remember. Right? _Right_? The boy buried his face in the pillow, thankful that at least his t-shirt was still on.

His eyes wandered to his bedside clock, and his heart skipped a beat. _10:14._ Alec shot up and was out of his bed in seconds. Sure it was a Saturday, but to him it didn’t mean anything – he was meant to wake up at 8, like every weekend, but for some reason his alarm didn’t go off. He didn’t shower, just tugged on some clean clothes, brushed his teeth and sprinted down the stairs.

He burst into the living room like a cannonball, to see the rest of his ‘family’ sitting at the table, drinking tea and eating pastries from the bakers down the street. All heads snapped up as soon as he entered.

“Sorry I’m late!” Alec apologised hurriedly. To his surprise Lilith put her coffee down and smiled at him,

“Oh don’t worry, darling,” she said, with a little wave, “everyone deserves to sleep in sometimes! Why don’t you sit down with us, hmm?”

Alec blinked at her. What the hell was going on? Lilith was never, ever nice. And she certainly never invited him to sit at the table with them. Still, she asked him to, so he shuffled over and sat at the edge of the closest chair. Lilith patted his knee but Sebastian only glared. At least he was normal.

“So, honey, did you hear about the TV show ‘Arranged?’” Lilith asked him, with her fake smile. Alec nodded slowly, “Ah!” his step mother exclaimed, delighted, “lovely. Well you see Sebastian and Magnus here,” she gestured at her two sons. Sebastian was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest and Magnus was drinking coffee, looking bored, “have agreed to participate in the special episode!”

Alec took a second to understand what he just heard. Sebastian and _Magnus,_ are going to go to some ball to try and win the host over so they can get _married_? _His_ Magnus?! Alec opened and closed his mouth, trying to process this information. He met Magnus’ gaze, but the other boy’s eyes were unreadable. After a moment of silence Alec cleared his throat,

“I, um, t-that’s great,” he mumbled, hands clutched in his lap. Sebastian smirked,

“Of course you can’t go,” he stated.

“I don’t want to,” Alec replied, he felt sick. _See? See!?_ _This is what happens when you give yourself hope! Izzy got to your head, idiot, you went to one bloody party and what? You thought Magnus Morgenstern would look at you twice after that?!_ he yelled at himself in his head.

“Well,” Sebastian rolled his eyes, “you’re not going.”

“I don’t fucking want to, okay?!” Alec snapped, before he could stop himself. Everyone stared at him, and a silence settled over the table. Even Valentine put his paper down to pay attention. Alec blushed with embarrassment and was about to apologise but Lilith cut in,

“Sebastian!” she looked at her son, disapprovingly, “we heard you the first time. Don’t pay any attention to him, Alec,” she turned to her step son, “anyway, I am very sorry about the short notice but I need you to go out very soon and purchase some suits and shoes for the boys.”

“Okay,” Alec said numbly, “Okay,” he repeated. Lilith clapped her hands, a smile blooming on her face,

“Thankyou, darling! Now here, come with me, I’ll show you exactly what you should look for. Hodge will drive you there, while I’ll take the boys to the barbers. The ball is tonight so please be quick…”

Lilith droned on as she led Alec into her office to show him pictures of expensive suits. And the only thing that filled Alec’s head was that he lost his last chance.

An hour later Alec clambered out of the limousine.

“That shop there,” the driver, old Hodge, pointed to a building, “you should find all you need.”

“Thanks,” Alec muttered, slamming the door closed. The limo pulled away, and Hodge went to look for somewhere to park. The boy scanned the area, looking for his best friend, who he had texted to meet him.

“Alec!” Isabelle waved at him from a bench, “over here!” she got up and jogged up to him, pulling him into a hug, “Tell me everything that happened!”

“So wait, you guys _slow danced_?” Izzy hissed as the two ducked through the racks of suits. Alec nodded, ignoring the dirty looks the other customers were giving them. There was a member of staff following them closely behind. Alec sighed, he didn’t have a mind to look at these suits now.

“But,” Alec said as Izzy eyed a shirt with distaste, “he’s going on arranged.”

“Yeah, so?” his friend didn’t seem to get what the problem was, “I’m going for the food! A lot of people are going just for the sake of it, not for Jace himself.”

“I don’t know…” Alec muttered, he didn’t want to give himself false hope, _again_. He caught sight of a bright purple shirt and felt a pang in his chest, it was probably something Magnus would like to wear, “let’s get that one,” Alec pointed to it. Izzy gave him a look but picked it up without a word.

“THE SHIRT IS BLOODY PURPLE FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!” Lilith screeched when Alec presented her with the suits, her good mood long gone. Alec shrugged,

“I thought Magnus would like it,” he stated emotionlessly, holding up the two suits in his hands. Sebastian’s one was a normal black and white one.

“I would like what?” Magnus asked, stepping into Lilith’s office. His eyes sparkled when he caught sight of the suits, “dibs!” he called, grabbing the one with the purple shirt. Alec tried to hide his smile, while Lilith glared at her oldest son,

“You think this is funny don’t you?!” her attention was back on Alec. The little bubble of happiness that appeared inside him when he saw the smile on Magnus’ face disappeared, replaced once again by the void. The boy shrugged.

“You little piece of shit!” Lilith yelled, lifting her hand. Before anyone could react she brought it down, striking the boy. Alec felt pain burst in his cheek, which was now bright red. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he lowered his head, letting his hair hide his face, “you can’t even do one thing properly! Get out of my sight, you disgrace!”

“Yes, mother,” Alec whispered lifelessly, stepping around her and Magnus, ignoring the other boys outstretched hand.

“I am not your mother,” Lilith hissed after him. It hurt more than the slap, even though Alec knew it was true.

He only let the tears fall half an hour later, after Izzy climbed in through the window and put her arms around him, calling Lilith a ‘bitter old bitch.’

“What do you mean you’re going?” Alec asked numbly, playing with the hem of his hoodie. Izzy shuffled from one foot to the other, not meeting his eyes.

“I-um, well…I got an invitation,” Izzy choked out, “and, I thought, that I should, go?”

Alec stared at her blankly for a second before forcing a tiny smile on his face,

“That’s great Iz,” he said, voice hoarse from sobbing earlier, “you should totally go.”

“But I feel bad for leaving you here all by yourself,” she said guiltily, sitting down next to her best friend. Alec rolled his eyes,

“C’mon this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. You should go, seriously. I’m probably just gonna finish my chores and go to sleep, and you know how bad at cleaning you are,” he joked. Izzy cracked a smile,

“Well, okay then. I’m gonna be on my way,” she gave Alec a bone shattering hug, “you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’m sure, don’t worry,” Alec said with a small chuckle, herding Izzy to the window, “now go before I change my mind and chain you to a wall.”

Izzy pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and then gracefully slid out of the window. She grabbed a ledge and jumped to the windowsill below her. In no time she was running through the driveway, waving and blowing kisses at Alec, until he couldn’t see her anymore in the dark.

“LIGHTWOOD!” Lilith’s voice drifted from downstairs. Alec winced, checking his reflection in the mirror to see if you could see that he’d been crying, before nearly tripping down the stairs. He was greeted by all four Morgensterns standing by the door. Lilith wore a long, sparkling dress with a slit that showed her pale leg, and heels that could rival with Izzy’s. Valentine and Sebastian wore the same black and white suits, their light blonde hair styled perfectly. Magnus was leaning against the wall, the purple shirt clinging to his chest, his hair spiked up. Alec felt himself flush and quickly looked away,

“Y-yes?” he asked. Lilith glared at him, letting Hodge pull her coat on,

“We are leaving now. You will complete the chores from the past three days before we return, is that clear?”

“Yes,” Alec nodded, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Magnus. The other boy looked alert, trying to get Alec’s attention, “Is that everything?”

“Don’t even think about coming to the ball,” Sebastian hissed before Lilith could answer. Alec sighed inwardly,

“I won’t,” he said. Lilith nodded contently, and they all sauntered out as Hodge opened the door.

“Alec…” Magnus turned towards him, and the blue eyed boys heart skipped a beat,

“Have fun,” he said with a tight smile, before sprinting up the stairs. He just wanted to get this over and done with and go to sleep.

When he was sure he heard the limo drive away he creeped back downstairs in the dark. When he got to the kitchen he flipped the switch on and ripped the paper of the fridge. There were a few points added underneath the ones he read last night. Alec scrolled through it and decided that cleaning the boys’ rooms would be a good thing to start with. He turned around, ready to start his chores, when he nearly ran face first into a woman.

“Excuse you,” she sneered. Alec stumbled back, wondering where the hell this bitch came from. She had perfectly curled blonde hair and was wearing a blood red dress that hugged her curves. She crossed her arms over her busty chest and gave Alec a disapproving look. The boy winced when he realised that she was taller than him,

“Give the boy a break, Cam,” a man around Magnus’ age stepped forward. Alec gaped. His hair was a few shades darker than the woman’s, and he was wearing a rumbled looking, old suit. He wore a monocle in one sparkling green eye.

“W-who are you?” Alec sputtered, backing up against the fridge.

“Woolsey Scott,” the man said with a charming smile, “this is Camille Belcourt. We are old friends of Magnus.”

“H-how did you g-get in?” Alec stuttered, looking around for a weapon. If the two decided to hurt him, there was no way he’d be able to stop them. Woolsey rolled his eyes, casually leaning against a counter, he had a bundle under his arm,

“Calm down, biscuit, we’re not going to eat you,” he said calmly, “well she might, but only if you piss her off,” he gestured to Camille.

“Silence, Woolsey, you know why we came here,” the woman said coldly. She nodded at the packed and the man reluctantly passed it to her. She carelessly tossed it to Alec and he clumsily caught it, and his first thought was that it was a bomb. Then he realised it was too soft for that.

“What is it?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Open it,” Camille ordered. Alec flinched but quickly ripped the brown paper. A white shirt, dark trousers and a black blazer tumbled out, and ended up in a heap on the floor. Alec stared at the pile and then at the two newcomers, “um…what is it?” he asked. Camille and Woolsey sighed at the same time.

“Dimwit,” Woolsey said, glaring at the ceiling.

“It’s your costume,” Camille deadpanned. Alec gave her a quizzical look, “To the ball.”

“Oh by the angel, listen kid,” Woolsey stood in front of Alec all of a sudden, “you will put this goddamned suit on, and you will go to the goddamned party for ‘Arranged’ hosted by the goddamn Jace Wayland. No questions asked, no returns or exchanges, you’re going and that’s that.”

“Precisely,” Camille added with a smile. Alec stared at them,

“Why are you doing this?” he blurted. Woolsey’s eyes sparkled,

“Let’s just say we have a dept to pay to Magnus. Now off you go change, and if you don’t go to this party and if you don’t Camille here will kick your butt. The car’s outside,” Woolsey reached for Camille’s hand,

“One rule only, you have to get home midnight  latest. Ciao!” Camille winked, and when Alec blinked they were gone like they’ve never been there in the first place, the only thing they left behind were the clothes at Alec’s feet.

And a thought appeared in his brain.

What if he went to Arranged.

And won over Jace.

And threw that in Magnus’ face, to show him that he didn’t mean anything to him.

And he wouldn’t have to live with the Morgensterns.

And he’d be free.

A huge smile blossomed on Alec’s face and he was sure that Woolsey and Camille were his guardian angels. He burst into the bathroom and pulled on the clothes as quickly as he could. He didn’t know how but the suit fit him perfectly, somehow making him look…appealing? He ran a hand through his hair and it fell perfectly, the way it never did. Alec blinked, surely this was his lucky day, God’s way of apologising for the years of misery he gave him. His spirit dropped a bit when he realised there were no shoes to match his outfit. Resignedly he reached for his old, battered black converse and pulled them on.

Alec stumbled outside, letting the door slam closed behind him, and his breath hitched. Parked in his driveway was a sleek black car with no markings on it to indicated what type it could be. It seemed to sparkled with energy and the windows were tinted. Alec took a hesitant step forward and the door in the back sprung open, inviting him in. The boy raised his chin and determinedly walked up to the car. He slipped inside, and looked around in awe. The seats were black, incredibly comfortable, leather, and there was a champagne glass and a letter on the empty seat next to him. Alec carefully reached for the champagne and took a small sip as he picked up the letter. A smile exploded on his face, it was an invitation to the ball.

“Where to?” a bored voice called from the front. Alec’s head snapped up and he saw a girl peeked at him. She has ashy blonde, curly hair, similar to Camille’s but had a different face, with more childish features and stormy brown eyes, “where to?” she repeated more urgently when Alec didn’t answer.

“I-uh…” Alec stuttered, not sure where Jace Wayland lived exactly, “the ‘Arranged’ party?”

“Gotcha,” the blonde girl muttered, turning the wheel, “Jessamine, by the way.”

“Alec.”

And suddenly the car was wildly speeding forward. With a wild lurch it hopped off the pavement and into the air. Alec screeched,

“Shush blue eyes,” Jessamine called from the front, “buckle up, it’s gonna be a wild ride,” she added grinning at him in the review mirror. The car continued to rise above the buildings, swinging from side to side. Alec clutched to the seat in front of him, his knuckles white. Jessamine fiddled with the radio station and put on some Mozart. She rolled down the window and a cold wind filled the inside of the car, cooling Alec’s face. He took a deep breath and settled back against the seats, relaxing and deciding to trust this weird girl. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the music, ignoring the unsteady car until the movements went away. This was clearly magic. That or Alec was crazy. Yup, definitely crazy. He sighed and decided to just go with it. After all what was the worst thing that could happen. He could wake up in his bed at home, or in a mental ward. He didn’t really care at this point. He let the movements of the car lull him into bliss, half between sleep and half between reality.

“Oi sweet cheeks!” Jessamine called, waking him up, “prepare yourself, we’re gonna land.”

“We’re here?” Alec asked, alert, and suddenly nervous.

“Yup. Wayland manor straight ahead,” Jessamine confirmed, pressing a few buttons on the control, “Okay hold on.”

So Alec did, clutching the seat in front of him desperately, squeezing his eyes closed. There was an impact with the ground like when the airplane lands, and then the car swayed a bit, before slowing down to a normal speed. Alec opened his eyes to see fancy mansions speeding past him. He sighed, relaxed and leaned back, as the car came around a corner, revealing the Wayland manor, lit by thousands of lights. There were cars parked everywhere and reporters and camera crews swarmed the place. Fancy guests came out of limousines and expensive cars, and made their way inside. Alec’s hands felt clammy,

“I can’t do this,” he muttered. Jessamine pulled into an empty spot and turned around to glare at him,

“Yes you can,” she stated firmly, “you can and you will. Listen, we don’t always get what we want but if you ever want to get out of the Morgenstern’s house and have an actual life, you must take any chance you can get. And sorry to break it to you, but this _is_ all you get. This one party can make the biggest difference in your life, or it can be meaningless. I can drive you back home and you can do your chores and bury your dreams and go to sleep. Or you can get out of this goddamned car and find who you’re looking for and get out of that hellhole forever. You have a choice in this, many of us don’t. I’m stuck driving this fucking car until I actually make a difference to someone’s life, you could your ticket out as much as mine. So don’t screw this up, Alexander.”

Alec’s heart gave a painful thud in his chest when Jessamine said his full name, but he decided he was okay with her saying it.

“Okay,” he said, grabbing the invitation. Jessamine smiled softly,

“That’s my boy, now get out of here, I’ll be waiting when you get back.”

“Thanks, Jessie,” Alec said, grinning, and he climbed out of the car, slamming the door, Immediately the car sped away, around the corner and out of eye sight. Alec sighed, gathered his courage and turned towards the manor. He was terrified what people would think of him, that he would be found out. But Jessamine’s words rang in his head and he refused to back down. So he made his way down a carpet meant for the guests, ducking his head away from the flashing lights of reporters cameras. Ignoring the shouts and pleads for interviews. He followed the couple in front of him, trying to not stand out. Apparently it worked because he got to the bodyguard standing in front of the entrance without an incident.

“Invitation please, sit,” the man said curtly, his expression unreadable. Alec’s hand shook as he passed the man the envelope. The guard glanced down at it and then gestured at the entrance, “welcome sir, this way please.”

Alec muttered a quick ‘thanks’ before ducking under the guards arm. He was embraced by warmth as soon as he entered the hall. Some man asked for his coat but Alec didn’t have one so he ignored him. There weren’t many people here, most of them were newcomers, making their way towards the main hall. Alec nervously wrung his hands together and followed where most of people were going. He passed a staircase that was guarded at the top, and saw a girl sitting on one of the lower steps, her face in her hands. Alec felt a pang in his chest and promptly changed direction, heading towards the girl. He plopped down next to her and she looked up. He expected her to be crying, but she just looked plain miserable.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” she answered. Alec studied her. She had curly ginger hair and green, lifeless eyes. There were freckles scattered across her pale skin and her long, green dress matched her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Alec asked, crossing his legs. The girls sighed,

“Why do you care?”

“Oh jeez, sorry, maybe because you’re sitting in the middle of the staircase at some rich ass party?” he said sarcastically, “I was just trying to be nice, sorry.” He made a move to stand up, but the girl grabbed his sleeve,

“Sorry,” she muttered, giving him a small smile, “I thought you’d hit on me.”

“Confident much,” Alec sat back down, rolling his eyes, “but now I, um, swing the other way.”

“Oh,” the girl laughed softly, “Clarissa Fray. Just Clary, actually,” she stuck her hand out at him. Alec shook it, giving the girl a smile,

“Alec Lightwood,” he said before he could stop himself. He winced when Clary’s eyes went wide.

“You’re _Alec Lightwood_?!” she stuttered. Alec sighed,

“Surprise,” he muttered sourly. Clary just stared at him, “What?” he snapped.

“Nothing, I just…well, I thought you’d be more…rough,” she said hesitantly. Alec blinked at her,

“Wow, thanks,” Alec leaned his chin on his hand.

“No I didn’t mean it in a rude way!” Clary assured, “You’re just not what I expected.”

“I never am,” Alec said sadly, “So what’s wrong? Why are you sitting here?”

“Boy drama,” Clary muttered into her knees. The people rolling past gave them dirty looks.

“Tell me about it,” Alec huffed. Clary grinned at him, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

“Have you ever felt like you grew really close with someone and you thought that, you know, there were feelings between you two. But then suddenly he does something unexpected and makes you doubt everything. Because he never said anything and you’re not sure he _cares_ ,” Clary sighed in frustration, running a hand through her hair as Alec’s mouth ran dry.

“Surprisingly, I actually have felt like that,” he whispered, “Okay, so what is this about?” he asked, “You can tell me, I doubt we’ll ever meet after tonight anyway.”

Clary looked at him, and then shrugged,

“Well okay I guess,” she took a deep breath, “basically me and Jace have been friends for a long time…”

“That _Jace_?” Alec’s eyes bulged, “as in Jace Wayland?!”

“Yes that Jace,” Clary gave him a ‘duh’ look, “but anyway I thought that we were growing closer you know. We went out all the time, and sneaked out. I stayed with him last summer because I don’t live here usually. And well, we went to parties and talked all night and slept in the same bed, but _nothing_ happened…” Clary trailed off, “and I guess I fell in love with him along the way,” her voice came out choked, “and, well, now he throws this party, and he’s looking for a wife or a husband and how the hell am I meant to compete with everyone here?!” she asked dejectedly, tears gathering in her eyes. Alec’s heart softened and he reached out to put an arm around the girls shoulders, knowing that his plan just went to shit. There was no way, no _fucking_ way, that he would try and seduce Jace Wayland to get out of the Morgenstern’s house, and break this girls heart. She loved that boy and Alec was not about to go and destroy the love. Someone once told him that to love is to destroy, and to be loved is to be destroyed. And he wouldn’t help with the destroying.

“C’mon,” Alec said, getting to his feet suddenly and sticking a hand out to Clary. The girl looked at him, puzzled, “Just come on,” Alec repeated. The ginger sighed and let Alec pull her to her feet. The walked down the stairs and followed the crowd into ballroom,

“ _Alec_ ,” Clary hissed, “C’mon I don’t want to do this!”

“Just trust me. Maybe this Jace boy really does care,” Alec muttered more to himself than to Clary. The ballroom was bigger and grander than the one at Morgenstern manor. The windows were decorated in Christmas lights, and there was mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. Two large Christmas trees stood in two corners of the room, and there were long tables filled with Christmas foods by the sides. Couples were up on the dancefloor, twirling to the tasteful music.

“It’s a Christmas party,” Alec stated dryly, “should’ve known.”

“Does this change anything?” Clary asked. Alec just grinned,

“Nope, except the fact that you match the decorations!”

Clary whacked him playfully on the arm, and Alec just rolled his eyes and tugged her towards the crowd,

“Do you know how to dance?” she asked, carefully putting her arms around Alec’s shoulders.

“Actually I was hoping you knew,” Alec said sheepishly.

“You’re in luck my friend,” Clary said happily, moving Alec’s hand to her waist. They kind of blended in with the couples but Alec has never danced with a girl, especially a short one, and he accidently stepped on Clary’s foot. Instead of getting offended the ginger giggled and stepped on his foot back. Alec glared at her jokingly, and she stuck her tounge out at him. In retaliation he spun her without a warning. Clary yelped but Alec’s quick reflexes helped when he caught her.

“Idiot,” she said when he pulled her upright, “enough dancing for you!” she said and pulled him of the dancefloor. They ended up sitting by one of the walls, eating little party sandwiches,

“Do you even know anyone here?” Clary asked with her mouthful. Alec nodded and scanned the crowd,

“Oh! That’s Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss,” Alec pointed his chin to the spinning couple, “And obviously Sebastian,” he rolled his eyes when he spotted his step brother, “and, um…M-Magnus…and…oh! That’s Izzy over there! Oi IZZY!” he called,  waving an arm at his friend. The girls eyes lit up when she spotted him and she all but ran towards him.

“Alec!” she squealed, pulling him into a hug, “what are you doing here?! I thought…I thought, oh my God, nice suit…where…what?!” she asked breathless, smiling from ear to ear, “actually don’t tell me. Probably magic. This party’s a bore, who’s your little friend?”

“Clary,” the ginger introduced herself,

“Isabelle, call me Izzy,” Izzy nodded at her, “so anyway Alec how did you get here?”

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later. Just remind me to leave at midnight,” Alec said. Isabelle nodded,

“So what are you two up to?” she asked.

“We’re trying to get Jace to notice Clary because they’re basically in the same situation that me and Magnus are in, except she actually has a chance.”

“Hey, that was a secret!” Clary smacked his arm, “and oooh, so Magnus is the one you told me about, ey?” she wiggled her eyebrows at him. Alec flushed,

“W-what, n-no…this…this isn’t about us, it’s about you and Jace!” Alec gushed as the two girls giggled.

“Whatever you say, Alec,” Izzy teased, “anyway I like this whole love plot thingy so I’m going to volunteer as tribute to help you.”

“Oh my God! I love the hunger games!” Clary exclaimed, “team Gale all the way!”

Isabelle high fived her and Alec rolled his eyes,

“Let’s concentrate here,” Alec snapped his fingers in front of their faces, “we need to get Jace jealous. Speaking of, where is he?” the boy peered at the crowd,

“There the one with the blonde hair,” Clary flushed and pointed her chin at a boy who was in the corner, speaking with his father, Stephan.

“Um, I know how this can work!” Izzy raised her hand like she was in a class,

“Yes?” Alec asked while Clary looked at them sceptically.

“You see how Jace and Sebastian always liked the same girls?” Izzy asked. Alec’s eyes narrowed at the mention of his step brother, but he nodded, “well if I’m right than Jace really does care and that means so does Sebastian,” there was an evil glint in Izzy’s dark eyes. She then proceeded to laugh. Loudly and manically. A few heads turned, and so did his step brothers, who made his way towards them, wait! WHAT?! Alec quickly linked arms with Izzy,

“We’ll be close by, I can’t let him see me!” he hissed at Clary before dragging Izzy away. They hid in an alcove where they had a good view of the two and could hear what they were saying. Sebastian sauntered towards the ginger girl, a lazy but charming smile in place,

“Hello,” he said. Clary glanced at where Izzy and Alec were hiding before putting on her own fake smile,

“Hi,” she said sweetly. Sebastian stood way too close for comfort, and he placed an arm on the side of Clary’s face, trapping her in. Alec hurriedly scanned the crowd and he felt like whooping when he saw Jace’s head snap up. He swore he saw the blonde’s eyes narrow at the sight of Clary with Sebastian, and he began to push his way through the dancing masses.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by herself, eh?” Sebastian asked slyly. Clary fidgeted uncomfortably,

“I, um, I just…” she trailed of and Sebastian smiled creepily.

“You’re at loss of words I see,” he said, moving closer, “well no worries, we don’t have to talk…”

Clary sent a panicked look towards Izzy and Alec and the boy had to hold back his friend to stop her from charging to Clary’s rescue, because right then Jace appeared at Sebastian’s shoulder, and roughly pulled the blonde away from Clary.

“Back of Morgenstern,” he growled. Sebastian looked startled for a second and then his face relaxed into a smirk,

“Oh? Wayland to the rescue,” he gritted, “well, don’t just assume this lady doesn’t appreciate my company.”

“I don’t appreciate your company,” Clary stated bluntly.

“Exactly, so fuck off,” Jace added sweetly. Sebastian’s expression darkened and he was about to open his mouth to say something, but Magnus appeared out of nowhere.

“Sorry, is my brother bothering you?” he asked calmly, but with a threatening undertone. Clary quickly glanced at Alec and that did it. Magnus followed his gaze and his eyes locked with Alec’s. His surprise was quickly replaced with calm. He smiled politely at Clary and Jace,

“Sebastian fuck off,” he told his brother. Sebastian ripped his shoulder away from Magnus’ hands, huffed a ‘whatever’ and walked off.

“Clary let’s dance,” Jace blurted. Clary blinked at him and then blushed cutely,

“Okay,” she shrugged and let Jace pull her away. She turned quickly and Isabelle gave her a thumbs up sign. However Alec was too busy concentrating on Magnus, who was determinedly walking towards them.

“Izzy, Iz, we have to go,” he breathed, tugging on his friends hand. Isabelle looked up,

“Shit!” she hissed, but it was too late, Magnus was already standing in front of them, “I-um, I’ma go,” Isabelle muttered, looked guiltily at Alec, and slipped away. Alec opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. Eventually he didn’t say anything and just stared at Magnus’ chest, because he couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

“Alec,” Magnus said softly, “You look…I-”

“Please don’t tell Lilith,” Alec blurted, red as a tomato.

“I won’t,” Magnus said resignedly, he gently reached out and cupped Alec’s chin, causing the boy’s heartbeat to pick up, and their eyes to meet, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” Alec muttered, determined to not break. Magnus sighed and studied the younger boys face,

“Did you come here to try and win Jace over?” he asked after a moment,

“Did you?” Alec retaliated. Magnus looked away but Alec didn’t have time to celebrate his victory.

“No,” Magnus said, “I made a deal with my mother.”

“You did?” Alec raised an eyebrow.

“I told her I’d come to this stupid party, because she knew if I went then Sebastian would go to. She didn’t want me to go for Jace, she was more eager on Sebastian doing that. But he wouldn’t go without me. So mother said I could, erm, take something important to me with me when I moved…”

“You’re moving?!” Alec asked, eyes wide,

“Yes,” Magnus nodded, “I’m cutting the family off.”

“And Lilith is okay with this?” Alec asked, unbelieving.

“She has no choice,” Magnus shrugged, “I’m an adult. But anyway I had to agree to this deal otherwise…”

He didn’t get to finish because at the same time  the music quietened down, and all the lights concentrated on the stage. Jace was standing up there, looking happier than ever.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you so much for coming to this ball tonight. I would like to thank all the people from ‘Arranged’ as they, well, _arranged_ this whole thing,” a chuckle broke through the crowd, “but unfortunately the party is over, as I have chosen my bride.”

Yells and applause exploded through the crowd and Jace grinned, quietening them down with his hand.

“Without further ado, I present my beautiful fiancée, Clarissa Fairchild!”

The crowd was cheering so loud Alec thought he might’ve gone deaf, but he didn’t mind because he was jumping and screaming alongside them. Clary came onstage, blushing and looking dazzling in her dress. Jace pulled her in for a kiss and the crowd wolf whistled. That was approximately when Isabelle appeared next to Alec, looking frantic,

“Alec!” she breathed hard, “It’s eleven forty five! You need to go!”

“Oh shit!” Alec’s mouth ran dry, “oh shit, shit _, shit_!”

He ducked around Magnus, who looked confused,

“Alec?! Where are you going?!” he called,

“To the house!” Alec called back, sprinting outside. There were camera’s rolling  and crowds calling but Alec didn’t hear any of that, instead leaping down the steps, taking two at a time. He had to get to the car and get home before the Morgensterns. They couldn’t find out where he went! He nearly tripped on his laces, somehow managing to kick one converse off in the process, but he didn’t really care at that point.

He spotted Jessamine’s car and relief flooded him. The door opened for him and he hurled inside like a hurricane,

“Drive! Drive! Drive!” he yelled, and Jessamine didn’t say anything, just pressed the gas pedal. They soared above Idris, the moon illuminating it and making it look more beautiful than ever and Alec’s legs were shaking and he was fidgeting and his heart was beating too fast and _it was taking too damn long_.

“Can’t you go any faster?!” Alec snapped, running a hand through his hair.

“Put your fucking attitude away, I’m trying, not my fault you were late,” Jessamine gritted. Alec put his head in between his knees, feeling a panic attack coming on. If his step parents found out he was gone there would be no way they’d let him go away to college. No fucking way! He couldn’t bear to spare any more time in that horrid house. He felt a sob rip through his chest,

“Alexander I’m trying, I’m really trying,” Jessamine said desperately, taking a wild turn. That’s when the engine began spluttering, “Oh no, oh hell no!”

“What? What is it?!” Alec asked, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

“I’m so sorry Alec!” Jessamine said as the car lurched and they started to lose altitude, “it’s almost midnight, our magic stops then, and so does this car!” she swerved to avoid a lamp and Alec felt sick. The engine spluttered one last time and died, the car landing on some dark road, shuddering. Alec was suddenly rolling, the world spinning around him. He closed his eyes as colour burst behind his eyelids. He finally came to a stop on the cold, hard pavement. He automatically turned to the side and threw up everything he ate at the party. Groaning he sat up, clutching his stomach and trying to figure out what happened.

Jessamine and the car were both gone. His suit somehow changed back into a hoodie and ripped jeans. Now Alec definitely knew he was crazy, or drunk. Yeah, he got drunk on Valentine’s liquor and he stumbled out here and…

Where the hell was his other shoe?!

Alec shakily got to his feet, his stomach doing a flip. He felt the wet floor touch his foot, immediately cooling his body. Alec shivered and felt his heart drop to his stomach. He was lost and cold and most probably crazy, and there was no way he was getting home in time. The boy plopped down against the closest wall and buried his head in his hands, letting himself cry. The sobs wrecked his chest and hot tears streamed down his pale cheeks and his entire form shook because Jessamine had been wrong. He hadn’t changed anything, he’d be stuck with the Morgenstern’s for the next thousands of years and she’d be stuck in that car for the next thousands of years. The difference was that she was the one with the choice now. She could fix a life today or tomorrow or next year and she could move on. And Alec would never ever move on, he’d be stuck in that goddamned house with that goddamned family for the rest of his life, because they were the Morgenstern’s and he was just Alec, just plain Alec, and one word from them and he could end up in prison or in a mental institution because they were the fucking Morgensterns.

“Come on, get up.”

Alec blinked his tears away and looked up. Three figures stood over him, all blonde.

“You guys,” Alec sobbed. Woolsey sighed and offered the boy a hand. Alec was quickly pulled to his feet and Jessamine wiped his tears,

“C’mon enough of that now,” Camille snapped, but there was little bite in it.

“Why are you here?” Alec asked, tugging his hoodie around himself.

“We don’t have any magic after midnight but we do have a conscience,” Jessamine said with a soft smile. Alec realised that she was dressed in black trousers and a button up white shirt, complete with a top hat.

“Let’s get you home shall we?” Woolsey asked, linking his arm through Alec’s. Jessamine linked the other arm and Camille rolled her eyes,

“Right this way, let’s do this quick, I can’t stand anymore of this bff vibe coming off you three,” she said, walking quickly in her killer heels. Alec let himself relax as he, Jessie and Woolsey followed.

About an hour of arguing, laughing and joking later Alec found himself on a familiar street.

“Time to go,” Jessamine said softly, letting him go. Woolsey followed suit and the three stood in a line,

“Thanks guys,” Alec said, though his chest tightened painfully, “for everything. Tonight might’ve not changed anything but I’m still glad it happened.”

“Oh Alec,” Jessie whispered,

“It did change something,” Woolsey grinned,

“Actually it changed so much more than you could imagine,” Camille finished. And just like that they were gone.

Alec stayed where he was, staring at where the trio just disappeared, before sighing softly to himself and trudging back home.

Nobody was waiting for him that night, so Alec crawled upstairs and slept like a dead man in his tiny room in the loft, letting go of all his hate and bitterness and concentrating on all the good feelings and moments of the night. Maybe the weird trio was right, maybe he did make a difference. Clary and Jace were together now, but it would’ve happened sooner or later. Still, he was happy he got to meet the ginger beforehand.

Alec fell asleep with a smile on his face.

He assumed he was screwed anyway, so he let himself sleep in. He took a quick shower in the freezing water and pulled on his Pierce the Veil hoodie. When he eventually did go downstairs the whole family was present.

Lilith was sitting on the sofa in her nightgown, with Sebastian sitting next to her, looking more grumpy and pissed off than usual. Valentine was standing behind them, looking emotionless as usual.

Magnus?

Magnus was in a t-shirt and jeans and a coat and a scarf and there was a suitcase by his feet.

_He’s leaving._

Alec felt choked up all of a sudden, but he swallowed it down.

Finally Lilith opened her mouth,

“You are all over the news, apparently you made quite the exit from last night’s ball,” the woman bared her teeth, “Yes, you’re all over the news and so is that stupid ginger girl…”

“Clary,” Alec stated.

“What?” Lilith snapped, annoyed.

“Her name is Clary,” Alec gritted through his teeth, “Now give me my punishment.”

At least Jessamine might feel better knowing that even if he got home in time, he’d still be found out because of the news. Hell, he felt better knowing it wasn’t all a dream or something he imagined. It had all been real, Camille and Ragnor and the suit, the weird car and Jessamine in her top hat, the ball and Clary, Jace and Magnus and the curfew, him losing his shoe and his new friends walking him home. It’s been real.

“You are free to go.”

Alec’s thought track was cut short.

“W-what?” he stuttered.

“You are free to go,” Lilith snapped angrily, “don’t make me repeat myself again.”

Alec mind was reeling with completely unrelated things. Like what was with the floral pattern on the coach. Why does Sebastian’s parting go left? There’s a stain on the carpet. Valentine has bags under his eyes. It’s probably cold outside.

He thought of anything, _anything_ than what Lilith actually meant.

Because he had enough fucking disappointments in his life already.

Lilith sighed frustrated,

“You really are stupid aren’t you,” Sebastian hissed, “my brother dearest is leaving. The only reason he went to the ball yesterday was so he could move out and take you with him. So there you go, you two can go be happy together,” he said bitterly, glaring at the two. Alec opened his mouth and tried to form words, looking from the Morgensterns to Magnus, and back again.

“Oh my fucking God,” he said finally. Lilith’s eye twitched,

“Get out.”

So Alec did, he grabbed Magnus’ hand and pulled him down the corridor and out of the door.

“Wait!” the taller boy called, “Don’t you want to bring anything?!”

“Nope!” Alec said breathlessly, popping the p. When they were outside Alec realised he didn’t have shoes on _but he really didn’t bloody care_. He turned around facing Magnus, who looked as dumbstruck as he was.

“Why me?” Alec asked, awaiting the answer like a death sentence. Magnus stared at him and Alec could swear his heart was gonna rip through his chest and run away.

“Because it’s you,” Magnus said softly, tracing the outline of Alec’s face with his knuckles.

And suddenly they were kissing like they were meant to have been, and Magnus’ arms wound themselves around his waist and he tugged him closer, and Alec didn’t care than anyone from his ex-family could walk out now and see them. He really didn’t care.

So they just kissed, softly and slowly, with Magnus’ thumb stroking the small of Alec’s back and Alec’s hands woven themselves in Magnus’ hair and it was absolutely, utterly perfect. Magnus pressed lingering kisses to the other boys jaw and neck, and Alec swore it was the best moment of his life. So far.

And then it started snowing.

And Alec was pretty sure it was his guardian’s angel doing.

More like guardian angels.

“C’mon let’s get out of here, Alexander,” Magnus said, leaning their foreheads together. Alec’s heart gave a jolt but it wasn’t unpleasant, “can I call you that?”

“You can call me anything,” Alec sounded breathless. Magnus smiled and quickly pressed their lips together again,

“Okay, Biscuit.” Alec blinked and burst out laughing, “what?”

“Nothing, just something ? called me.”

“Knew it had something to do with that lot,” Magnus sighed, “Now come on, I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to. Oh yeah, I found your shoe by the way.”

And they got in the car and drove far, far away.

 

**6 months later**

Alec and Magnus have been living together for half a year now, and it was the best half a year of Alec’s life.

They had a small apartment in a complex downtown. The Morgensterns completely cut Magnus off and so he began giving lectures at the local college and earned his own money. He changed his last name to Bane, and Alec began attending night classes at the local university and worked part time at a coffee shop. He was frequently tired but Magnus would just make him tea and tuck him in and kiss him on the forehead and he’d feel better immediately.

They got two cats and names them Church and Chairman Meow. They got along with all of their neighbours. On the left lived a single eighteen year old guy called Simon, who was very close friends with Clary. Coincidence right?

Simon was to be Jace’s best man and Isabelle would be Clary’s maid of honour, so the two met often, and along the way fell in love, Alec guessed. It wasn’t until Alec stumbled out at seven am to collect the milk from outside that he saw Izzy sneaking out of Simon’s apartment that he put the pieces together.

On the other side lived a couple, Maia and Jordan. Jordan was a tattoo artist and Maia a celebration planner. Simon convinced her that she should help plan Clary and Jace’s wedding, and she agreed.

And then, before anyone knew where the time went, the wedding was on them.

“What do you think?” Isabelle asked for the fourth time, patting down her short, purple dress,

“It looks great Iz, seriously,” Alec rolled his eyes,

“Trust me, you look flawless,” Magnus added. Isabelle’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

“Thanks you two.”

Jordan drove them to the ceremony in his tiny Lexus, with Magnus, Isabelle and Simon squeezed in the back, and Alec in Magnus’ lap, while the driver and Maia took the comfortable front seats. There were a bunch of reporters outside of the Wayland manor and they tried to interview the group, but they blew them off.

The ceremony was simple, but beautiful. Clary looked flawless in her golden dress and Alec swore he saw Jace’s eyes get all watery. He finally met Clary’s parents, Jocelyn and Lucian. He danced with Magnus and with Izzy and Clary. He even had a quick dance with Simon and Maya. Catarina was there and she kissed him on the cheek when she saw him, congratulating him on getting together with Magnus.

The party ended late into the night, at which point Alec and Magnus were sitting outside on some grass, stargazing. Magnus’ hand found Alec’s in the darkness,

“What are you think about?” Magnus asked him sleepily,

“About how I ate way too much,” Alec muttered and his boyfriend snickered, pulling the younger boy closer and kissing him on the cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered against his temple,

“I love you too.” Alec whispered contently, letting his eyes fall shut as Magnus played with his hair.

“Oi losers!” Ragnor called, “There’s leftover cake, you guys want some?”

“YES!” Alec jumped up and sprinted back inside, with Magnus following him, smiling. Ragnor smirked at him,

“Someone’s happy,” the white haired boy stated.

“Yeah,” Magnus’ smile widened, “Gotta thank someone someday.”

“Do you mean…” Ragnor trailed off, his eyebrow raised, “Actually don’t tell me. I rather not know what happened in Peru. Just why did they help Alec that night?”

“They owed me,” Magnus said smirking, “and Jessamine’s a sucker for love. Always been, always will be.”

“You think she’s still driving that car around?”

“I don’t know, but she sure as hell made a difference.”

Magnus leaned against the wall next to Ragnor and watched as Clary, Catarina and Alec chased each other round the ballroom, stuffing their faces with cake.

Alec never saw Camille or Jessamine or Woolsey after that day. But he knew they were watching over him and Magnus. Sometimes the door to his car would open without him touching it and the radio station would switch to Mozart. He got dreams in which he was flying over Idris, or see someone in the crowd wearing a top hat. His wrapping paper was mysteriously replaced with brown one, identical to the one his suit was wrapped up in. But most of all, one shoe from a pair would disappeared without a trace, only for Alec or Magnus to find it on the coffee table in Simon’s apartment or on the stairs.

_Alexander Gideon Lightwood could say that the first ten years of his life were a bliss, but he’d be lying. The last six years of his life were a mess, but the years that came after – they were the real bliss._

_Alexander Lightwood and Magnus Bane? Oh no, they’re not part of the Morgenstern family. They couldn’t possibly be. Live in a scruffy apartment, work part time jobs. No, surely it can’t be. Nobody could control boys like that, even the Morgenstern. They’re not the Morgensterns._

_Yeah that’s right._

_Perfect._

_ _


	2. Beauty & The Shadowhunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Herondale messed up big time, and now everyone in his house have to pay for it. Including Tessa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos pleaseeee?  
> HAPPY NEW YEAR!

**Beauty & The Shadowhunter**

_ April 1878 _

_William Herondale was the most good looking Shadowhunter in Alicante, nobody could argue with that. But he was also the cruellest, rudest boy in Idris . Everyone remembered the one time he read Tatiana Blackthorn’s embarrassing diary entry at her own party, ruining it for everyone. He was spoiled and cold, and loved to play pranks on people. He was a handful even for his own parents, but as soon as he turned eighteen he moved away from them to the Herondale Manor in the country side. Soon enough his parents passed away and his younger sister, Cecily, came to live with him, and everyone in Idris worried that she’d grow up like her brother, cold with a frozen heart._

_It was Will’s nineteenth birthday, and he decided to throw a party. And boy, was it a party, the most prestigious, beautiful and rich young adults from all over Idris came to attend, and the party lasted for a week. It was a blast, the people invited showed off their fancy invitations and watched others go green with jealousy. There was alcohol and little party sandwiches and fifteen different cakes. There was a Jazz band that came all the way from America and flame eaters and exotic dancers, and everyone felt swell._

_Late at night on the seventh day it began to rain heavily, most of the guests decided to leave, so only a handful of Will’s closest friends remained. They were resting in the living room, sipping champagne and nibbling on leftovers when there was a knock on the door. Will was slightly tipsy as he made his way towards the door and opened it._

_Outside stood a cloaked figure, drenched from the rain. It was a girl, judging by her long brown hair._

_“How may I help yoou, g’d lady,” William slurred. The girl threw her hood back to reveal a beautiful face, and a jagged scar that ran down her left cheek like a battle wound. When Will saw this he stepped back and squinted, “You’ve got something  ‘ere,” he said brushing his own cheek._

_“It’s a scar,” the girl said simply, “My name is Sophia Collins. I heard there is a party going on inside. May I join?”_

_William blinked at her and burst out laughing,_

_“Sorry gal,” he leaned against the door, “the party’s over.”_

_“But there are still guests present, are there not?” Sophie asked confidently. Will rolled his sparkling blue eyes,_

_“Sorry, but only beautiful people are allowed inside,” he said simply. There was a beat of silence in which Will expected the girl to burst out crying or run away or both. However she just smiled, twisting the scar on her cheek, her eyes alight with a fire._

_“And am I not beautiful enough for you?”_

_William snorted,_

_“Sorry to break it to you, but you are quite hideous. I mean, look at you, maybe you were beautiful once, before that…thing, happened to you face. But now? No chance, lady, get outta here,” Will stated, rather rudely. The girls smile disappeared, replaced by a coldness that sent a shiver down the boy’s body._

_“You are a cruel man, William Herondale.”_

_“So I’ve been told,” Will tried to joke, even as the air grew thick. Thunder rumbled in the distance,_

_“You are a cruel, cruel man, William Herondale,” Sophie repeated louder, her voice ringing through the open door. Will’s friends appeared behind him, interested by the commotion, “and you shall be punished for your cruelty. I curse you, you and everyone who stands in this house. You shall suffer what you fear worst, for the next a thousand years. The curse will only be broken if a wanderer from afar comes to this house and falls in love with you and your twisted, frozen heart. If at the end of the a thousand years the curse isn’t broken, you shall all perish in hell.”_

_And as lightning struck in the distance, the girl disappeared. Will and his guests blinked, and then all of them burst out laughing at the same time, doubling over._

_“Well wasn’t that peculiar,” Jessamine Lovelace fanned herself, sipping on her champagne elegantly,_

_“She was quite ugly, no doubt,” Gabriel Lightwood wrinkled his nose in distaste. His older brother, Gideon, glared at him,_

_“I thought she was most pretty.”_

_Everyone stared at him, before bursting into giggles again, patting him on the back,_

_“Oooh, Gid has a crussssh,” Cecily sang as the oldest Lightwood smacked her on the shoulder._

_“Don’t hit her, she’s a girl,” James Carstairs rolled his dark eyes, sipping his tea,_

_“And my sister,” Will added with a cheeky grin, “Jem is that tea laced with Opium?” the half Asian boy shrugged with a small smile, “You dirty little addict,” Will said with a fond smile._

_“I’m not addicted!” Jem protested, downing the rest of the liquid before Will could snatch it away._

_Charlotte Fairchild shrugged on her fur coat, and pushed past the group,_

_“Well me and Henry will be on our way now,” she said, grabbing her ginger boyfriend’s hand and lacing their fingers together, “It’s quite late and we still need time to do…_ things _,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively as everyone present wolf whistled._

_And then the weird thing happened, as the two tried to step out of the door they smacked right into…something. An invisible wall of sorts,_

_“What the…” Henry Branwell rubbed his freckled nose and tried to leave the house again, but the same thing happened. Both Will and Gabriel charged out of the door, and were thrown to the floor at the impact with the thing blocking the exit. Jessamine patted it gently, and Gideon pushed at it, but it wouldn’t budge._

_“It’s probably that horrid girl’s doing,” Jessamine huffed, crossing her arms over her chest,_

_“It’s a prank of sorts, I’m sure…” Charlotte sounded worried as she tried to side step the invisible barrier, “Try the backdoor!” she ordered, and everyone scuttled to the servant’s exit. Cecily ran face first right into another wall,_

_“What the hell is this?!” she muttered outraged, as Gabriel checked her face for injuries._

_“What…” Henry sounded terrified, “what if the curse was real. What if we’re stuck here forever?!”_

_“Don’t be ridiculous!” Charlotte snapped, “let’s use common sense. We’re Shadowhunters, are we not?” the group nodded, “well let’s try a rune then!”_

_But no matter what they did, nothing seemed to budge the barriers. They even attempted to push Gabriel out of the window, only to find it blocked by the same invisible magic. Eventually the friends all plopped back down in the living room, exhausted._

_“I’m sure someone will come get us eventually,” Charlotte yawned. The others agreed, and let sleep catch up to them, each drifting off where they sat._

_They were awoken hours later, when the sky changed from black to grey, and tried the doors again. The wall was still there._

_Everyone glanced at each other and Jessamine got up with a frustrated sigh and paced around the room, eventually stopping by the mirror. She let out an unexpected shriek. Charlotte jumped up, her skirts flying,_

_“What on earth is wrong with you Jessie?!” She gasped, clutching her chest dramatically._

_“My…M-my…” Jessamine opened and closed her mouth like a fish. She turned towards the group and everyone sucked in a breath. The blonde girls elegant dress has disappeared and was replaced by a shirt, a tie, trousers and a tux jacket, her long hair was unevenly cut short and peeked from under a top hat, her curves have disappeared. She ripped the hat off and desperately ran her hands through the ruined strands, “What is this!?” she yelled, cheeks red, “What happened?!”_

_By now everyone was up, running towards the mirror, shrieking and yelling over each other. Gabriel Lightwood unexpectedly shrunk, causing Will to scream at the top of his lungs, and became a black sparrow._

_A loud cawing came from the bird, and he attempted to fly up and crashing into a wall._

_“Gabe!” Cecily yelled, running up and picking the bird up, “Are you alright?!”_

_“HENRY! CHARLOTTE!” Jessamine screamed, clutching her hair. There was a blue cat and a clock with a human face lying on the floor where the couple stood moments earlier,_

_“My head’s spinning,” Henry’s voice drifted from the clock,_

_“What am I?!” Charlotte asked terrified, “Jessie, what am I?!”_

_“You-…y-you’re a cat!” the blonde whispered, and surveyed the room, “You!” she pointed at Will, Cecily and Gideon, “How come you are okay?!” Gideon glared at her,_

_“Cómo se supone que debo saber?!” he asked. Then froze, “¿Por qué estoy hablando en español ?!_

_“Oh by the Angel this is madness!” Will cried, grabbing his head, “He’s speaking Spanish, Jessie’s a man, Gabriel’s a…a bird, Henry’s a clock and Charlotte’s a cat! The witch was serious, we really are cursed…Jem? Jem!”_

_The dark haired boy turned to search for his best friend, only to find him staring at himself in the mirror. His dark hair and eyes were now silvery white and his mouth was hanging open in shock,_

_“W-Will…” he whispered, turning to his friend for help, “there’s a m-message…”he pointed at the mirror with a shaky finger._

_Everyone gathered around it. There were four words written on the surface in red…something._

He will die first.

_Something dark on Jem’s skin caught Will’s eye. Writing._

_“Oh God, Jem,” he whispered. In black ink, the words on the boys right wrist said,_

The drug that will kill you, will also keep you alive.

_“What the hell does that mean?” the now silver haired boy snapped._

_“Opium. You need Opium or you’ll die.” Was all Will said as he plopped down onto an armchair, defeated, “what do we do now?” he asked quietly, looking desperately from one friend to the other._

_“We wait until someone appears and falls in love with you,” Jessamine snapped angrily like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and she…he pulled his top hat back on. Suddenly everyone froze when they heard a carriage pull up outside. Nobody even realised it was dawn._

_“The servants!” Charlotte hissed from her cat form, “Quick everyone except Will and Cecy hide!” and she proceeded to grab Henry the clock with her mouth and jump under a sofa. Gabriel landed ungracefully on Jessamine’s shoulder and the girl grabbed Gideon’s arm and tugged him into the closest closet._

_“Be quiet you two!” she muttered to the brothers, furiously. The reply came in angry Spanish. After a moment of panic Jem followed the three and squeezed into the closet._

_“Jem!” Jessie  shouted, but any other protests were cut off when the front door opened,_

_“Mr Herondale!” Bridgit, the cook, called in her thick Irish accent, “Mr Herondale, where are ya sir?!”_

_“I’m right here, stop screaming,” Will muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. Bridgit looked quizzically at Cyril and Thomas who came in after her,_

_“Did you hear that?” Cyril asked, glancing around,_

_“Yeah that sounded like him,” Thomas said, tucking in his shirt, “He’s probably playing a prank on us.”_

_Will made an outraged sound at the back of his throat,_

_“How dare you, you lowly peasants?!” he shrieked, running up to them. The three jumped and looked around, panicked,_

_“Who said that?” Bridgit asked loudly as Will jumped in front of her._

_“They can’t see you Will,” Cecily whispered in horror. The boy continued to try and get his servants attention, “Will they can’t see you!” his sister repeated angrily, “they can’t see either of us!”_

_Will’s arms flopped uselessly down to his sides and he gave his sister a panicked look, as the servants ran out of the house, screaming something about ghosts._

_Since that day many tried to solve what came to be known as the Herondale Murder Mystery, but nobody came close to figuring out the truth. In the end William Herondale, Cecily Herondale, James Carstairs, Jessamine Lovelace, Gideon Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Henry Branwell and Charlotte Fairchild were deemed dead. When the third cousins of the Herondale’s came to live in the mansion, they left after a week, saying that it was haunted and that during the night they could hear whispers in the living room, there were teacups filled with weird substances left in the sink along with champagne glasses. They reported that they sometimes caught a glimpse of a tall, blonde man or a silvery boy in a mirror. There was a bird problem in the attic, especially with ravens, and the clocks changed times. And the constant whispers, sometimes in Spanish. The footsteps following them everywhere._

_And so, nobody lived in the Herondale Manor, and it became haunted._

11th Februrary 2014

Theresa Gray, commonly known as Tessa, hated the new town her family moved to. Well, she says ‘family’ but it’s really just her and her older brother, Nathaniel. They used to live in London, the capital of England, filled with libraries and bookstores and coffee shops. Tessa had a close bunch of friends there and attended the local college. And then her brother got a job in Idris, Alicante, and the two had to move. Tessa didn’t blame Nate, he was the one providing for them, Tessa’s measly pay from where she worked in a café couldn’t pay the bills. She loved her brother, a lot, and was willing to sacrifice the familiar for this little town. If only it wasn’t so dreadfully _boring_.

Tessa sighed, pouring some milk into a coffee cup. She’d been offered a job at the local tea shop, and gladly accepted it. However where in London she could read a book when there were no customers, and her friends came to visit her, in Idris it seemed as there was always someone present. Figures, since it was the only tea shop in the town.

“Oi hurry up lassie!” the old man she was serving yelled. Tessa snapped out of her daydream and quickly placed the cup on a little plate that she put on the counter in front of the man,

“Sorry sir,” she said, smiling cheerfully, “that will be £3,” she added. The man grumbled and passed her the money in pennies. When he was done she wished him a good day. Then the door opened, “Oh no,” Tessa whispered to herself.

The Mortmain’s have just walked in. They were the most popular people in the town, they had perfect grades, went to church every Sunday, and did charity work. Dakota, also known as Dark was the head of the student committee, attended the debate club and worked for the local newspaper. She was a real social butterfly but Tessa found her immensely boring, and also quite creepy with her bright yellow eyes. Her older sister, Beatrice, or Black, was known for the amazing parties she threw and her amazing fashion sense. And her ridiculously long nails.

But Axel, their brother, was definitely the worst. He was a muscular, tall twenty year old, with a full beard and an expression that made him look permanently grumpy. He was known as a heart breaker in Idris, and girls swooned when they saw him. Tessa just didn’t know why, he was obnoxious, loud, inconsiderate and a show off. And apparently absolutely smitten with her.

“Theresa!” he exclaimed in his deep, gruff voice, as all females present glared at the said girl. The man made his way over to the counter, “How are you today?”

Tessa smiled politely, wracking her brain for an excuse to get away from him,

“I’m great Axel, how are you?” She asked, leaning down and rummaging through cups under the counter.

“Better, now that you’re here,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her and leaning forward. Tessa had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the not subtle flirting and grabbed a paper towel to wipe a spillage next to the coffee machine.

“Would you like to order anything?” She asked nonchalantly, trying to get Mortmain to understand that he was just a customer to her.

“Ah yes,” Axel gave her a charming smile, “One Teresa Gray for takeaway.”

This time Tessa did roll her eyes and watched as the Mortmain sisters spread to mingle with their friends at tables. Quite a few heads turned to look at the exchange between Tessa and Mortmain though,

“I’m flattered,” Tessa said stiffly. The man didn’t seem to take a hint though,

“So what do you say we go out after you finish work?” He asked persistently. Tessa sighed to herself, and proceeded to wipe some glasses and stack them neatly one next to the other.

“Sorry, can’t,” she said with a fake smile, “I have to return a book to the library.”

This time it was Mortmain who rolled his eyes,

“Books are _such_ a bore,” he stated, “I don’t understand what you see in them.”

“Of course you don’t,” Tessa huffed under her breath, but Axel either didn’t hear it or ignored her. He was too busy checking out his reflection in a glass, the girl took a deep breath and straightened up, “Are you going to order or not?” she asked, smile still in place.  

“Come on, Theresa, they’re playing a fabulous movie down at the theatre during the weekend we should see it,” Axel sent her a winning smile, ignoring the question.

“I won’t go out with you,” she deadpanned, tired of this man always pestering her everywhere she went. Mortmain’s smile faltered,

“Well if you’re busy on the weekend, we can do the next one,” he said, not taking a hint, “Oh wait. I can’t do that weekend, I have a modelling session for…”

“Listen Axel,” Tessa ran a hand down her face, interrupting him, “I’m not going out with you. Ever. I’m not interested.”

A silence fell over the café as all eyes swivelled to look at the pair. Mortmain looked startled for about a second, before quickly recovering. His lips fell back into an easy smile and he opened his mouth to say something,

“Are you going to order or not?!” Tessa snapped, glaring at him.

“I…n-no…”Axel trailed off.

“Then stop wasting my time!” the girl said with finality, turning her back onto the man and sorting through different flavours of coffee. She heard the door to the shop slam angrily and only then did she let herself sigh in relief.

↮

Hours later, when her shift was finally over, Tessa exited the coffee shop, wishing she could somehow teleport herself back to London. It was already dark, but hopefully that would change soon since it was Februrary. She trudged home, her earphones blaring My Chemical Romance so loud you could hear it in the street, not that there was anyone to listen. Unlike her old city, in Alicante nobody left the house after dark, there were no concerts, no clubs. Tessa hated it, hated the lack of life, the lack of adventure. She just wanted to live a little before she had to settle down and have a boring job.

She reached her and Nate’s apartment complex and walked up to the third floor since the lift was broken. With a sigh she pulled out her earphones, stopping in front of their door, and knocked. There was no answer even though Nate should’ve been home. Tessa thought he could be sleeping so she dug into her pocket and fished out her house keys. She stepped inside the apartment to find all the lights, and heating, off. There was no sign of her brother in any of the rooms. Tessa toed off her shoes and padded into the kitchen in her socks. There was a blue post – it note on the fridge. She ripped it off and her eyes scanned the messy handwriting,

_Dear Tess,_

_I’m so sorry, I just got an extra job out of town. It’s just on the outside of Alicante, so not far, over that old hill you thought looked so beautiful. It’s only for three days, and I’ll be back by Saturday. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just found out today and my phone died so I couldn’t text you._

_There’s some pizza in the fridge, you can re heat it in the microwave. Sorry again,_

_Love,_

_Nate xx_

Tessa sighed and crumbled the note, tossing it into the bin. Typical of Nate to take the first chance and leave without any notice. He liked to do that.

↮

Nathaniel Gray wasn’t an evil man. Sure, he was selfish and self-centred, but not evil. To be honest he could’ve stayed and worked in Alicante, but he always grabbed an opportunity to get away from home. Tessa was…well she wasn’t his real sister. She was his cousin really, and they both knew it, but they have been raised as siblings and when their mother passed away Nate had to take care of his ‘little sister.’ To be honest he only had to wait half a year, when  Tessa turned eighteen she would be out of his house, and maybe out of his life as well. It’s not that he wanted to get rid of her, or that he didn’t love her, he just had enough of her. He had taken care of her for years, and he was so tired of it.

These thoughts circled in his head as he drove his old Lexus up a rocky path. His GPS said that this was a shortcut to the town close by that he had his job at. The headlights picked out bushes and shrubs and not much else, and his car wobbled on the uneven, rocky ground. He had been driving up for about twenty minutes, listening to the Rolling Stones when the car gave a particularly hard jolt and stopped.

“What the-” Nathaniel hit the steering wheel as if it was magically going to make the car start again. When nothing happened, the man cursed under his breath and tumbled out of the vehicle into the cold night. He checked the front of the Lexus like he saw in the movies, but in all honesty he had no idea what to do. For a few minutes he just circled the car, poked at it, tried tweaking it, turning it on. Nothing worked. Nathaniel let out a frustrated sigh and hugged himself, trying to preserve as much warmth as he could. He contemplated going downhill, back to Alicante, and it’s low, glimmering lights, but he decided against it. Falling off a mountain in the middle of the night wasn’t his idea of fun. He pulled out his phone, but obviously there was no signal. He trudged a bit more upwards, scanning the area, and saw a flickering light a bit more upwards. Relief flooded him as he figured it had to be an old gas station, or someone’s house, maybe they had a phone he could use. Without a second thought he made his way towards it.

The lights turned out to, indeed, be a house. However it was a massive, very, very old house. The front gate was broken and shrubs grew everywhere, giving the place a messy look. What looked like a very rundown carriage stood in the driveway, and there were vines crawling up the walls of the manor. The windows were so dirty that he couldn’t see anything inside, except the flickering glow from the bottom window. Feeling cautious, Nathaniel made his way towards the front door and knocked tentatively.

Nothing happened for a while, and Nate raised his hand to knock again, when the door creaked loudly and slowly swung open. Hesitantly the man stepped inside,

“Hello?” he called, and immediately choked on the ridiculous amount of dust in the air, “Anyone here?” he called, voice muffled by the hand he put over his face to protect him from the soot in the air. There was no reply, so Nate carefully picked his way through the dark corridor and into the room with the only light. It turned out to be a large living room, with old, floral sofa’s and a long table. There were a couple of candles placed on various surfaces, and they gave off the light, but no heat. Nate shivered, and pulled his coat more tightly around himself. There was nobody in the room but the man had a weird feeling of being watched. He decided that he was just being paranoid and so he quickly plopped down on the closest sofa, “Heloooo?” he called again, not expecting a reply. Suddenly his eyes were drawn to what looked like a golden clock, standing on the table, ticking softly. Unlike everything else it was devoid of dust. All reason left him as he thought for how much he could sell that thing for. Without thinking he reached for it and hid it inside his coat pocket. He was on his feet in seconds, making his way back to the door.

“What the hell are you doing”? a voice snapped, right next to his ear, as the door slammed shut with a dull bang. Nate yelped and whirled around, scanning the room, only to find that there was nobody there,

“No need to be rude Will,” a different voice, this time female, scolded half-heartedly. Nate’s heart was threatening to jump out of his chest as he put the pieces together. He has heard of the ‘haunted’ Herondale mansion, but he never believed it. And this was clearly where he was, and it was clearly haunted.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t m-mean…” he didn’t finish because that’s precisely when he tripped over nothing, and ended up sprawled on the expensive carpet. He coughed on the dust that flew into the air,

“Well he’s not very graceful, is he?” the male voice spoke, sounding amused,

“You stuck your leg out,” the female sounded bored, “put Henry back, mundane.”

“Don’t tell me you’re just gonna let him go,” the man asked as Nate all but threw the clock, which he assumed was Henry, across the room. A blue cat slinked from the shadows and sent him a dirty look, tenderly picking the object up into its mouth.

“What else do you want to do with him?” the female asked, obviously annoyed, “We have to let him go.”

“He tried to steal Henry,” the cat hissed in a human voice, and Nathaniel jumped a foot in the air, “We are _not_ letting him go. He needs to be punished.”

“W-what? N-no…” Nate tried to stand up, but he just ended up shuffling to the closest wall, looking petrified.

“Fine. Gideon!” the female voice called, resigned, “Jessie!”

There was the sound of heavy footsteps hitting the floor and one of the three doors was flung open, and two boys walked in. Nate had time to note that they were both blonde, except one looked very feminine.

“¿Quién demonios es esto?!” the taller blonde demanded. The slighter one rolled his eyes, fixing his top hat,

“It doesn’t matter who this is,” he said, and Nate realised he even sounded a bit like a girl, “but why is he here?” Nathaniel screamed again when he saw a black sparrow fly in through the window and land on the Spanish man’s shoulder.

“That doesn’t matter either,” the female ghost spoke, suddenly close to Nate, “you better get rid of him.” She told the newcomers.

“Us?!” The girly boy looked outraged, “I am a lady, I do not…”

“Oh cut it out Jessie,” the male ghost interrupted, “You’ve been a man for centuries, you better get used to it.”

Nate was too busy being terrified to try and understand what was going on.

“Whatever, Gideon just take him down to the dungeons, I don’t have the energy to deal with this,” the man in the top hat sighed, “and where on earth is Jem?”

That was precisely when Nathaniel blacked out.

↮

To be honest it wasn’t the first time Nate didn’t make it home on time. But he always called, or texted his sister to let her know if he would be late. This was precisely why Tessa was currently at the police station,

“Listen lady,” the bored officer behind the desk gave her a tired look, “Your brother is a grown up man that can take care of himself. Just because he’s a day late doesn’t mean that he’s been kidnapped. Just give it time, okay?”

“But he’s never done that before! And he didn’t call…” 

“Just give it time, okay?” the police officer repeated staring blankly at his computer. Tessa let out a frustrated sigh and left, making sure to slam the door shut behind her for good measure. It was late afternoon and she knew there was no way she’d sleep through the night, not with the worry gnawing at her insides, twisting them uncomfortably. She went back to her and Nate’s apartment and tried to take her mind off things, she cleaned a bit, read a book, but she couldn’t concentrate.

 Just when it was getting dark she made her decision. She couldn’t sit here, while her brother could be hurt somewhere. _Screw the police,_ she thought angrily, pulling on her coat and grabbing a scarf.

She was out of her apartment, her phone already dialling the only person she knew she could trust to help her. 

“Magnus Bane, high Warlock of London, on the phone,” a cheerful, familiar voice welcomed Tessa from the other line.

“Magnus I need your help!”  

“Biscuit?” Tessa could hear the worry in Magnus’ voice as he called her by her nickname, “what’s wrong?”

“Nate’s gone,” the girl said, running down a flight of stairs, slightly calmed now that she was talking to her friend, “and I need you to send me a car as soon as possible.”

“On it,” Magnus now sounded serious, “Want me to come over? I can cancel the party.”

“No it’s fine, I’m sure he just stayed longer than he should, but I would rather check, I can’t sleep when I don’t know where he is.”

“You know you can come here,” Magnus said warmly, “You’re always welcome in London.”

“I know, I know,” Tessa ran a hand through her long brown hair, “I’m just worried, s’all.”

There was a murmur of chanting in the background,

“Okay the car’s waiting by the bridge,” Magnus said, “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Tessa smiled as she rounded the corner and saw a slick black car with no markings waiting for her, “Thankyou Magnus, I owe you one.”

“Glad to help. Call me when you find him.”  


↮

Tessa’s been driving uphill for quite some time, sweating and trying to keep the car as much on the dirt road she she could. To say she wasn’t the best driver out there would be an understatement. She was downright horrendous, and driving uphill in the dark made the cut as one of her worst experiences, alongside the one time she let Magnus style her hair. The glitter hadn’t come out for months. Tessa was distracting herself with thoughts of pointless things when she saw something that caught her eye.

A bit off the road, in the dark, there was a looming shape. The shape of her brothers car. Tessa killed the engine and clambered out of her own vehicle, making her way towards the shape. The car’s wheel was deflated and there was dust slowly gathering inside. It looked like nobody’s been in it for a couple of days. Tessa circled the car, checking for any signs as to where her brother could’ve gone, but there were none. Frustrated she leaned against the mask and buried her face in her hands.

That’s when it started raining.

Tessa learned that the rain in Alicante wasn’t the half-hearted drizzle it was in London, but it came abruptly, in freezing sheets, often mixed with snow, and changed into a full blown storm pretty soon. If Tessa had any doubts about driving up a mountain, they were magnified now. No way was she going anywhere with water hitting down on her.

She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the hail and looked for anything that could help her in this situation. She caught sight of a tiny, dim and flickering light close by. She was immediately filled with suspicion, in normal circumstances she would’ve never even thought about going towards it, but she didn’t fancy spending the night in the cold, so she decided that she would rather face psycho killers or ghosts.

↮

Just a few minutes later one soaking wet, freezing Tessa Gray appeared on the doorstep of an old, rundown mansion. The light was on in only one room, and that was enough for Tessa – she let herself hope that maybe it belonged to Nate. She walked through the creaking gate and up a path to the looming building, that was once probably beautiful. She knocked hurriedly, her teeth clattering. When nothing happened, she knocked again, this time more forcefully. In the end nobody opened the door so she invited herself in. The hallway was very dark, but slightly warmer than the outside. And dry. She took off her soaking shoes and socks and placed them in the corner with her coat and scarf. She then proceeded to walk to the only light source. As she got closer she heard urgent whispers, which scared and intrigued her at the same time. There was more than one person in the house, but maybe Nate was amongst them.

When she walked into the lit room, Tessa was met with a sight she would remember for the rest of her life. There were three floral couches placed in a dodgy circle in the middle of the room, and that wasn’t the weird thing. The weird thing was that the whole thing seemed occupied by people, even though there were only two humans sitting down. One was a boy with short, light blonde hair, a top hat and feminine features. The other man was also blonde, but much more muscular, and he looked quite unhappy. There was a midnight black sparrow perched on his shoulder, looking around the room with intelligent eyes. There was a golden clock lying back on the dusty cushions with a blue cat curled around it. Two places looked occupied, even though there was nobody there.

All conversations died when Tessa walked in. She blinked at the two men and then smiled,

“Sorry for barging in. There was a terrible storm outside and nobody was opening the door.”

“muy bien, ¿quién es éste?” the manlier blonde huffed. The other one in the top hat sighed and Tessa looked at them quizzically,

“How are we meant to know?” he eyed Tessa up, “Who are you?”

“Um, Teresa. Teresa Gray,” she said. Nobody replied, “Or just Tessa.”

“What do you want?” the boy cut in again. The sparrow flew up from the Spanish boy’s shoulder and landed on Tessa’s, digging his claws into her shoulder,

“Ouch careful there little one,” Tessa winced as its tiny claws sliced through her shirt, in reply the sparrow cawed, outraged and perched himself on a window sill. Tessa turned back to the men, “I was looking for my brother. Nathaniel Gray? Have you seen him?”

“Oh bloody hell,” a hiss sounded from an empty space on the couch.

“Shut up Will,” another hiss, this time female. Tessa raised an eyebrow,

“Ghosts?” she asked. The boy with the top hat blinked at her, and then proceeded to look angry,

“None of your business,” he snapped, “and on the contrary your brother is here.”

“Oh thank God,” Tessa sagged with relief, “Where?”

“In the dungeons,” the male voice of the invisible person spoke, sounding smug. Tessa looked at him, or at least where she assumed he was, quizzically,

“Why is he in the dungeons?” she asked.

“Because he tried to steal Henry,” the blue cat huffed angrily, nuzzling its face into the clock, who sighed contently. Tessa gasped,

“He tried to steal him?!” she yelled, outraged. The boy in the top hat winced, “no wonder you put him in the dungeons.”

“Wait,” the female ghost spoke, “You’re not scared by us?”

Tessa blinked at them,

“Well you didn’t hurt me…yet,” she narrowed her eyes at them, “are you going to hurt me? Because if you are then I’m going to excuse myself.”

“Bien esto es interesante…” the bigger blonde boy said with a genuine smile.

“Shut up Gideon,” the other one snapped, “We’re not going to hurt you if you leave now. But your brother stays, he violated the rules of this house.”

“Oh come on, I can pay you guys…”

“WE DON’T WANT YOUR MONEY!” the boy in the top hat yelled, “LEAVE!”

“Jessie calm down,” the female ghost spoke, “we can’t keep him here forever.”

“Yes we can,” the cat butted in, “I’m with Jessie on this one, the man was downright disrespectful and rude.”

“Oh come on, we let him in!” the female argued.

“And look where that got us,” the boy, Jessie, huffed. The room burst into argument, everyone shouting over each other. The sparrow swooped down from the windowsill and circled over their heads.

“Shut up!” the clock eventually yelled, causing everyone to quiet down and Tessa to jump slightly, “just give the boy back to her…”

“Thankyou!” the female ghost exclaimed.

“Let’s compromise,” the cat said with authority, eyeing Tessa up, “we will release the boy, but the girl has to stay here for…let’s say two months, in return, and help restore the mansion.”

The room exploded into arguments again, which looked peculiar as Jessie screamed at thin air and the other blonde man argued in Spanish. Then someone stepped into the room and everyone fell eerily silent. The boy was tall and freakishly thin, he looked incredibly frail and his eyes and hair were the most peculiar shade of silver. He was rubbing his eyes as if he just woke up,

“What’s going on?” he asked softly.

“Jem why are you out of bed?!” the male ghost asked, his voice thick with worry and care. The cat jumped off the sofa and padded over to the boy, curling around his bare feet until he picked her up with delicate hands,

“Hey Lottie,” he murmured pressing a kiss to the cats head, “I heard an argument so I came down to see what was happening,” he seemed to just now see Tessa, and he smiled radiantly at her, “Hello there. I’m Jem and who might you be?” he asked.

“Tessa,” Tessa replied, deciding she liked this boy the most. He  smiled at her again before turning to where she assumed the male ghost stood,

“What are you arguing about, Will?” he asked softly. The atmosphere shifted in the room, it became calm, laced with worry. A sigh came from nowhere,

“This girl is the mundane’s downstairs sister, and she wants him back. Me and Jessie want to send her off, but Henry and Cecily want to give him back to her.”

“What about Gid and Gabriel?” Jem asked, hand stroking down the cat’s back.

“Mantenerme fuera de este!” Gideon snorted, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

“Gideon’s neutral,” Jessie glared at the other blonde, “but Charlotte wants to send the boy off and keep the girl…”

“Only for two months!” the cat butted in, “and she can help restore the mansion. All that dust is not helping your health!”

An uneasy silence fell over the room as Jem’s hand stilled in the cats blue fur.

“I think Lottie’s idea is the best,” the female ghost said quietly, breaking the silence. The others agreed, though some more reluctantly than others. The sparrow landed next to the cat in confirmation.

“Would you be willing to trade places with your brother?” Jem asked, looking at Tessa, his silver eyes startling her. Only now it hit her that these weird people were talking about keeping her in this…haunted place, and make her do…what? She would never agree to that…but she couldn’t leave her brother here. They seemed to want to harm him. Tessa took a deep breath,

“Y-Yes,” she said shakily, but without hesitation.

“Bring him in,” the male ghost muttered darkly, but Gideon and Jessie were already on their way.

↮

“God Tessa this is madness!” Nathaniel gushed. He didn’t look much different from the last time the girl saw him, except his clothes were rumpled and his hair was a mess, “I will call someone!”

“It’s okay Nate,” Tessa squeezed his brothers hands, “it’s only for two months, just let Magnus know, will you?”

“Tessa I’m not leaving you here!” Nate exclaimed, although it sounded half hearted.

“It’s fine Nate, you have work. I’ll handle this…” she trailed off looking at all the occupants of the house, lining the wall.

“Are you sure?” her brother asked one last time. Tessa nodded, surprised that she didn’t feel heartbroken. Actually, she felt fine, and a little bit excited. Nate nodded and kissed her on the forehead before hurrying out. Tessa missed the way his face relaxed into a relived smile.

She slowly turned towards everyone else present,

“So wanna explain what exactly happened to you guys?” she asked. Jessie rolled his eyes.

“You might like to sit down,” Jem plopped down into a sofa, slumping as if he didn’t have the energy for anything, “excuse the mess.” He added, gesturing at the dusty living room.

Tessa said nothing as she eased herself down into one of the sofa’s and watched as everyone took their places. She squeaked when she felt a presence sit itself next to her, a body radiating warmth, even when she couldn’t see  it. Jessie sat opposite her and laced his fingers together, however it was the cat who spoke.

“I know this may be hard to believe but in 1878 a grand party took place right here, in the Herondale manor,” her brown eyes swiped the living room and settled back on Tessa, “after almost a week of dancing and partying most guests left, leaving  only a handful to their own devices. A hint, that was us. Late at night a knock came on the door and a girl asked if she could join us…”

“She had this horrendous scar on her cheek!” Jessie interrupted, face twisting in disgust, “and of course our dear Will had to bring it up and use it to insult her!”

“Hey!” the ghost next to Tessa yelled, his body tensing against Tessa’s side, “in my defence I didn’t know she was a warlock!”

“Whatever Will,” Jessie rolled his eyes, “anyway because of that blubbering idiot everyone in the house got cursed. Believe it or not my actual name is Jessamine Lovelace and for the first seventeen years of my life I was a _girl_!” Jessie said outraged, “and then this happened!” he gestured wildly at himself, “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!”

“Calm down, Jessie,” the cat huffed, “you didn’t get the worst one. I’m Charlotte Branwell, and as you can see I’m a cat. My fiancée, Henry, is the clock,” she jumped off Jem’s lap and curled protectively around the golden clock which blinked its large, green eyes open.  

“Yeah well I’m William Herondale, also known as the host,” the ghost next to Tessa shuffled, “and me and my sister Cecily, have both turned invisible.”

“Oh thank God, I thought you guys were dead,” Tessa sighed in relief.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THANK GOD?! WE ARE INVISIBLE NOBODY CAN BLOODY SEE US! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU MEAN THANK GOD?! I WILL RUIN YOU!” the ghost screeched as Tessa winced.

“William,” the silver haired boy muttered, eyes flashing. The ghost immediately settled, “Don’t shout at our guest. She’s right, at least you’re not dead.”

Another silence settled over the room and Tessa fidgeted uncomfortably, feeling as if they reached a sensitive topic. Everyone seemed to walk on eggshells around the silver boy, and sure enough he looked like he could drop dead any second.

“Sorry, Jem,” Will whispered eventually, sounding absolutely heartbroken. He cleared his throat and continued in his normal, mocking voice, “Yeah anyway, that bird over there,” he pointed at the sparrow, “that’s Gabriel Lightwood. He’s been a bird for centuries, so don’t bother speaking to him. The one speaking Spanish is Gideon, don’t bother speaking to him either, unless you’re fluent.”

“And what about him?” Tessa asked after a moment, nodding at Jem. Nobody replied.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Charlotte jumped off the sofa, her voice not betraying any emotion, “follow me.”

↮

Later on that night Tessa laid on a bed, staring intently at the ceiling. She couldn’t fall asleep, the short candle Jessie brought her has long ago burned out, and the musty room was dark, the dirty windows not letting in any light. The girl sighed and shifted onto her side, eyeing a stain on the wall with a disconnected interest. She just couldn’t bloody sleep. She couldn’t sleep at home either, so it didn’t make much of a difference. But at home she could listen to music, make hot chocolate or watch movies until her body forced her to rest. But here? She was scared that if she left the room she’d stumble into some satanic ritual that was taking place outside her door.

Eventually she felt too itchy and excited to sleep, so despite her doubts, she got up and felt her way to the door. The corridor was just as dark and satanic ritual free, so she fumbled her way along, which was probably a bad idea. Nearly all the rooms she tried were locked, and the ones that weren’t looked similar to hers. She spied a piano in one but that was about it. Mostly everything else was covered in white sheets.

 In no time at all she was lost, having ventured into the more abandoned part of the mansion. Cobwebs hanged from corners of the ceiling but Tessa was never fazed by spiders, so she didn’t care. She was worried about not being able to find her way back to her room, though. She turned back the way she came, but accidently turned into the wrong corridor. When she came to an end that finished with a pair of creaky stairs, she had to choice but to climb them. Which meant that she was now on a completely different floor. She searched for a staircase that could lead back down to her level, but couldn’t find one.  

She did find a room with a gap of light underneath it instead.

And of course she just _had_ to go inside. 

What she saw was Jem holding an old, ornamented box filled with a silver powder that matched his eyes and hair, and he was obviously in a conversation with either Will or Cecily, unless he was batshit crazy and was talking himself, which wouldn’t surprise Tessa. However her mind filled in the blanks for her.

“You take opium,” she blurted, identifying the powder. Jem’s head snapped up and his eyes widened and filled with shame. He quickly closed the box and pushed it under his bed.

“You!” suddenly there was a hand gripping her arm in a tight grip, but there was no one there. Definitely Will then, “how dare you barge in here?!” but he didn’t give her a chance to answer as he dragged her out of the room. Tessa caught Jem’s worried look but the sickly boy didn’t make a move to stop Will, he just looked down at his feet like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

But Tessa had other things to worry about as the invisible boy dragged her down a dark, cold corridor. A chill went through Tessa as Will’s grip tightened on her arm, sure to leave bruises. As soon as they made it around the corner Tessa felt herself get slammed into the closest wall.

“You…”Will hissed, his breath hitting her face, which wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Tessa had no idea where to look so she stared at where she assumed the boy’s face was.

“Will you let go?” she asked through gritted teeth. The pressure on her arm lightened but Will didn’t remove his hand, “I didn’t mean to walk in. I got lost.”

“Why the hell were you up anyway?” Will snapped. Tessa sighed,

“I couldn’t sleep. Now please let me go, it’s not like I’m going to judge Jem for what I saw. Frankly, I think he’s sweet unlike _some_ people in this house,” she gave Will, or at least what she thought was Will, a pointed glare. There was an audible sigh and the hand left Tessa.

“Go back to bed, you’re gonna be needed tomorrow,” Will said, “Down that corridor is a staircase, it comes out near your room. Just go there.” And before Tessa could say another word she heard Will’s footsteps walking away. 

↮

Will let our another frustrated sigh, running a hand through his slightly curling hair. Taking care of Jem always left him like this, and every time his best friend had an attack something in him broke. And the whole ordeal with Tessa just made him so much more exhausted.

He hated this. He hated this horrible, disgusting, rundown house. He hated how full of hatred everyone living here was, how much they regretted everything. He hated the curse, for letting the house and the souls of the occupants fall into ruin. But deep down he just hated himself, for making all of this happen.

If it wasn’t for him Jessamine wouldn’t be stuck as a man, and it made her sweet heart bitter with hate. She hated who she was, and couldn’t accept it even after centuries. If it wasn’t for him Gabriel wouldn’t be a bird, a fucking bird. The boy only turned human every full moon like a werewolf, but he wasn’t – he was a bloody bird. He was slowly losing all that was human and it was breaking Cecily apart. His own sister, he couldn’t protect her. She had to pay for his stupidity, forever stuck in a house with the person she loved nothing more than an animal. He couldn’t talk to Gideon – unlike them, he didn’t have time to learn Spanish, so even on that one night in the month, he couldn’t speak with Gideon, his brother. Charlotte and Henry hadn’t gotten married, and they probably never would, they would never have a child. They were stuck as a clock and a cat, and Henry became slowly detached, throwing himself into designing little trinkets.

And then there was Jem. His best friend, the person who was always by his side, who was the one that never had any flaws to begin with. And here he was – dying. All of them would die, but they had a few more centuries to try and find someone who could love Will. Who knew how much time Jem had. Hours? Days? Months? Years? Every single day was a blessing and a curse, Jem lived another day, worthless and brutal, but another day nonetheless. But tomorrow everyone would be plagued with the thought that what if he just…dies? The message on the window burned bright in Will’s mind despite the years that have passed.

_He will die first._

But they all will. Eventually, haunted by fear and regret, with the body of their friend rotting in one of the rooms because they _wouldn’t even be able to bury him_.

His friends.

His family.

All dead because of him.

Will stumbled blindly down the corridors, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes, glad that nobody could see him. He blindly found his room and threw himself on his bed. He wanted nothing more than to run back all the way to Jem’s room and hold his hand, make sure his friend was safe. But he didn’t have the strength. He just wanted all of it to end, and if he wasn’t such a coward he would’ve finished it himself.

Then there was hope. Just a sliver of it, but he saw it today.

The way Charlotte’s eyes sparkled when she saw Tessa, the way Jessamine seemed to burn with a fire, the way Gabriel landed so determinedly on her shoulder. She could be the one.

The only thing worse than death was false hope.

But Will didn’t let himself hope.

↮

Tessa shivered, tugging the oversized, old fashioned sweater around herself. Her clothes were still drying from yesterday’s downpour so she got stuck with a couple of male, button up shirts and weird trousers. It was better than the puffy dresses she was offered. Someone left breakfast at her bedside table and she was glad she could avoid eating with the weird occupants of the mansion. However Jessie burst into her room in the morning and threw the sweater at her, telling her it was Will’s and that she better hurry up because she was going to help clean the gardens. He seemed totally unfazed by the fact that Tessa was in her underwear.

So here she was, bright and early in the morning, freezing her nose off as Gideon and Charlotte lounged on the floor just inside the door of the manor. Tessa eyed the massive shovel she was handed, suspiciously, and tugged on the edge of the frayed sweater. It was surprisingly comfortable and warm, like wore it minutes before Tessa put it on. Which was stupid because Will’s clothes were invisible or he was walking around naked. Nope, not a good mental image. 

“So you guys are not going to help?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Lo haría si pudiera salir de esta puta casa!” Gideon stated. Charlotte licked her paw,

“We can’t. Part of the curse keeps us holed up in this house. We hadn’t been able to step a foot outside since 1878,” the blue cat said smartly.

“Great,” Tessa muttered under her breath as she began to try and dig a hole in the cold, frozen ground.

“Start with the weeds,” Charlotte pointed out, looking at the dead weeds, “There’s sheers in that little shed.”

Tessa followed the cat’s instructions and pulled out a pair of heavy sheers from a bunch of bundled up, rusty metal…things. She started to cut at the dead thorns and bushes, letting them fall to the ground.

“Cut near the root!” Charlotte cried in horror. Tessa sighed but listened to her,

“Voy a buscar un bolsa de basura,” Gideon sighed and got up, disappearing in the darkness of the parlour.

“What did he say?” Tessa asked, half interested, as she continued to snip at the shrubs,

“He’s getting a bin bag,” Charlotte said simply. For a few minutes the two settled into a comfortable silence, Tessa snipping and the blue cat watching her with interest. Eventually Gideon reappeared with a handful of black bags,

“Aquí tienes…” the blonde man started to say, but he tripped over a part of the bunched up carpet, and went flying. Right out of the front door and onto the hard ground of the garden. “Mierda que duele…” he groaned. A stunned silence settled over the three and Gideon’s eyes widened, “Charlotte qué demonios-”

The cat didn’t let him finish as she jumped outside, past the doorwat. There was no invisible wall blocking her path. A high pitched laugh escaped her mouth,

“By the Angel! We can go outside!” she exclaimed, “Gid quickly call the rest!” she added, as she proceeded to roll around on the frozen ground like it was the best thing she’s ever done. Gideon’s face was bright with a smile as he charged back into the house. Seconds later the rest of the occupants were outside, screaming and laughing out loud. Jessie twirled with his arms outstretched and Gabriel the sparrow soared above their heads. Gideon had Henry the clock in his arms, and even Jem peeked outside, a ratty, old blanket around his thin shoulders and a tiny smile on his pale face.

Jessie raced towards the gates, and was thrown backwards before she could set foot outside them. The smiles disappeared off everyone’s faces as they ran towards him, Cecily or Will picked him up, and he dusted himself off,

“I knew it was too good to be true,” he huffed.

“At least we can go outside!” Tessa heard Cecily’s voice float somewhere from her left.

In the end Tessa didn’t clean the garden by herself because everyone refused to go back inside after years of being there. It took until sundown but the group got most of the shrubs and weeds in the bin bags. They had to be very careful to not bump into Cecily and Will, and Tessa felt at ease when she saw the looks on everyone’s faces. Hope.

↮

That evening they all lounged around the living room, and chattered away. They have called a pizza takeaway place and Tessa had to go down to one of the back roads to collect it. Henry, Gabriel and Charlotte weren’t eating and it was slightly unnerving to see pizza slices levitate into the air and disappear in chunks where Will and Cecily sat.

“So how come the house is such a mess?” Tessa asked when she was on her third slice.

“Obviously because there are no servants,” Jessie said, nibbling on the crust of his first slice,

“Why didn’t you guys just clean yourself?” the brown haired girl continued.

“We tried at the beginning but it’s hard to maintain a house when there’s only five humans, two of which kept avoiding their chores because we couldn’t find them,” Charlotte gave the spaces where Will and Cecily were sitting glares, “so now we only look after our own rooms and eat the food that magically appears downstairs.”

“So how is the curse broken?” Tessa asked, curling her legs underneath her. Everyone fidgeted uncomfortably but eventually it was Cecily who replied,

“Someone has to fall in love with Will.”

There was a silence in which everyone looked even more uncomfortable then before.

“I…um-” Tessa cleared her throat, “how about we, uh, play a game?”

“What game?” Jessie laid back on the sofa, his head in Gideon’s lap, and Gabriel the sparrow swooped from the ceiling and landed on his bent knee,

“It’s called truth or dare,” Tessa explained, “and basically someone in the circle picks either truth or dare, which is quite obvious. If you pick truth someone asks you a question and you have to answer truthfully, and if you choose dare then you have to do something that someone tells you to do…”

“We might as well play,” Jem said enthusiastically from the doorway, entering the room and curling up on the couch in between where Cecily and Will were, it looked like his head was awkwardly bent but he was probably just resting it on one of the sibling’s shoulders, “can I start?” Tessa nodded and Jem scanned the crowd, “Lottie, truth or…um-”

“Dare,” Tessa prompted. Jem repeated after her with a soft smile, Charlotte narrowed her brown eyes and thought for a second,

“Truth,” she decided eventually. Jem hummed to himself as he thought of a question,

“What do you like most about being a cat?” he asked finally. Will snorted next to him and Charlotte rolled her eyes,

“I have an excuse to cuddle people,” she said emotionlessly. Gideon and Jessamine burst out laughing,

“Who knew your were a cuddler?” Cecily teased, and Tessa could hear the smirk in her voice even though she couldn’t see her. Charlotte recalled the invisible girl with a calm, calculating look,

“Cecy, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” came the easy reply.

“What do you do when Gabriel turns human every month?” the cat asked mischievously.

“I-um, I…” Cecily spluttered, obviously flustered, “I-um, we, erm…kiss, and- I um…”

“That’s enough information Thankyou very much!” Will cried at the same time as Gideon made a disgusted noise, “I believe it’s Jem’s turn.”

“Okay fine,” Cecily huffed, “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” Jem said softly, smiling, his eyes lighting a bit. Cecily was silent for a while, thinking of a dare but Jessamine interrupted her,

“Kiss Will,” the blonde boy said with a grin. Will spluttered and began to protest, however he grew silent as Jem gracefully got up,

“Where are you, Will?” he asked with a small smirk. There was an audible, pained sigh and then some shuffling.

“Here,” Will grumbled, taking Jem’s hands and guiding them to his face. Jem’s hands skittered over what seemed air and without a warning he leaned forward and placed an exaggerated kiss on…

“Hey that was his cheek!” Cecily protested, “That doesn’t count!”

“You never said where to specifically kiss him,” Jem said as he plopped back down on the couch, “It’s not my fault you and Jessie wanna see us kiss.”

“I’d only see half anyway,” Jessie grumbled, “Gid, truth or dare?”

“Verdad,” the blonde replied. Nobody bothered to translate,

“How far have you ever gone with a girl?”

Gideon lurched into a long paragraph in Spanish, and his lips spread into a smile as he saw the others become more and more scandalised.

“Gideon!” Charlotte gasped when he was finally done, “that is _not_ appropriate!”

Gideon shrugged,

“Will, verdad o se atreve?” he asked, without as much as a blush.

“Hmmm…since you’re all wimps, except you Jem, I will chose dare.” Will said confidently.

“Te reto a besar a la persona a encontrar los más atractivos de esta sala,”  The tall boy said with a wicked grin. There were muffled giggles and Tessa’s grey eyes swept the room, trying to figure out what Gideon has said. There was a moment of rustling and she was about to ask what Will’s dare was, when she felt soft but firm lips against her own.

She was frozen in shock for a few seconds as a tingle ran down her body, and too soon the lips were gone and the room was filled with laughter and wolf whistles,

“Well who would’ve though, ey?” Jessie giggled behind his hand.

“I’m going to bed.” Will said stiffly, and seconds later the door on the other side of the living room opened and closed.

“I’m gonna go too,” Cecily said and Tessa could hear the smile in her voice, “Today’s full moon. Gab’s gonna be changing soon.” Gideon cringed.

Eventually everyone got up and left, until only Tessa and Henry the clock remained in the room.

“What was the dare?” Tessa muttered to herself, frustrated that nobody bothered to tell her.

“Gideon dared Will to kiss the person in the room who he thought was the most attractive.” Came the dreamy, unexpected reply for Henry.

Tessa ignored the way her heart skipped a beat.

↮

The next morning the girl was awoken by the excited yells and feet running up and down the stairs. She grumbled to herself as she rolled out of bed. Just then the door flew open to reveal Jem, his cheeks were flushed and there was a delighted smile on his face,

“Tessa come quick! You won’t believe it!” she said, grabbing her hand in his warm, delicate one. The girl let herself be pulled out of the door and down the cold marble stairs by the silver haired boy. She couldn’t help but let the excitement, so obvious in the air, seep into her, and a grin appeared on her face. There was a joy in the atmosphere that made the cold, ancient house seem a bit more bright.

Tessa and Jem sped down the hallway as fast as they could and entered into the living room through the open doors. For a second everything seemed normal, the duvets bunched up on the floral sofa’s, the soda cans and leftover pizza slices left on the dusty table…and there was an unknown someone standing in the middle of the room. Gideon had one strong arm around his shoulders and everyone was crowded around him laughing. The boy had a strong resemblance to the blonde boy, although he was taller, and his hair was brown compared to Gideon’s blonde. Their eyes were the same blue – green, but what Gideon lacked were the other boys huge, midnight black wings that spurted from his back like ink stains. They were mesmerizing.

“Gabriel,” Tessa guessed. The voices calmed and everyone’s eyes focused on her,

“You must be Tessa,” the boy spoke, his voice clear, and then he bowed. Tessa felt uncomfortable.

“How come you’re not a sparrow?” she asked to break the tension. She still had tiny claw marks on her shoulder from where Gabriel landed on it.

“I rather hoped you would be able to answer that question,” Gabriel said solemnly, staring at Tessa intently, “For hundreds of years I was a bird, and only returned to my human body once a month. But on the crack of dawn today, I remained in my own body, with these wings the only thing left of my bird self.”

Tessa didn’t know what to say to this, but Cecily’s excited voice broke the silence,

“He can also fly outside the gates.”

“But he’s the only one,” Charlotte said with a sigh,

“And he changes back into a bird if he does, but that’s not important,” Will added cheekily.

“I-um,” Tessa’s mouth was wide open, “How does this have anything to do with me?”

“Everything started changing when you got here,” Jessie exclaimed, taking Tessa’s hands in his, “you are the one that’s meant to save us.”

Tessa really didn’t know what to say to this. She only came here to save her brother from these…people? But now everything was different, and she felt like everyone in the room saw her as someone who could help them. But she didn’t know how she could to that, according to the curse she was meant to fall in love with Will. But how do you fall for someone you can’t even see. The girl smiled weakly,

“Well since you’re a human now, you can help me and Jessie tidy up the second floor,” she told Gabriel.  

↮

“Ugh I _can’t_ do this anymore,” Jessie whined, sliding down the wall. Tessa was up on an unsteady ladder, scrubbing at the windows. Every now and again she caught sight of Gabriel, who was flying outside, cleaning the other side of the glass. The brown haired boy popped up in front of her and waved, and Tessa couldn’t help but grin,

“Come on Jess, we’re nearly done,” she said in a voice that she hoped sounded motivating. Jessamine groaned but picked himself up off the floor and grabbed a broomstick. He proceeded to sweep the floor in overdramatic movement. Tessa was sure that any second now he would start dancing with the inanimate object.

And so the month passed, and Tessa grew closer and closer with the occupants of the manor. No more magical reversals have happened since Gabriel and everyone was becoming slightly dishearted, but they weren’t giving up hope. Not yet. Tessa didn’t know if she would be able to make herself leave at the end of next month. She had had no messages from Nate and he hadn’t come to visit. She hated herself for thinking this, but the manor felt more like a home than any of hers and Nate’s apartments.

The house became a happy and bright place over the time that Tessa has been there, thanks to her and the rest of the occupants help. Everyone was eager to help and clean and in no time mostly everything was restored to its former glory. Magnus might’ve helped a bit when he visited one time to make sure Tessa was okay. Throughout most of the time he just spoke to Henry the clock about his inventions. They even fixed the gate.

It happened on a Wednesday. Charlotte appeared during lunchtime, her usually blue fur coated with thick dust. She sneezed as her tiny paws left marks on the polished floors, and she had a grumpy expression on,

“What on earth happened to you?” Cecily snorted. Charlotte glared,

“I was looking for some wine and accidently wandered into cellar. That was a bad idea as nobody bothered to clean down there. It is a right mess, someone go down there and fix it at once!” she demanded.

“I’ll go,” Will shrugged, putting down his Shepard’s pie.

“I’ll help,” Tessa agreed. She hadn’t had a chance to work with Will alone yet. She did get to know everyone else though. Gabriel got her a phone charger from a shop in town and in the evenings he, Cecily and Tessa would listen to music on Tessa’s IPhone and argue about which ones they liked best. When it rained outside Tessa would curl up on the floral sofa with a book and Charlotte in her lap, and she’d have long conversations with Henry the clock, explaining to him how modern technology worked. Jem tried to teach her how to play the violin, but it ended up with Tessa just listening to the boy play. Gideon attempted to teach her Spanish with Gabriel’s help, but not much came from it. Jessie dug out some of her old dresses and together they remade them to look more up to date. The two of them, and sometimes Cecily would try them on, with Charlotte watching. They looked ridiculous on Tessa, and funny on Jessie’s boy’s body and…well on Cecily you couldn’t really see it, but it was still a form of entertainment.

Everyone warmed to Tessa, except Will who seemed to almost avoid her.

Sometimes he’d recommend or comment on a book Tessa was reading, or listen to Jem play with her, and laugh at the Lightwoods trying to teach her Spanish. But he rarely spend time with her alone.

Except in her dreams.

But let’s not get into that.

So the brown haired girl had no idea what to expect when after lunch her and the invisible shadowhunter made their way down to the basement. It was dark and dusty, and they had to bring candles down with them. Tessa sneezed and then coughed, but Will didn’t react to the dirt. He seemed used to it.

“So,” Will’s voice startled Tessa in the darkness. A cloud of dust rose from an old table as the boy moved old boxes, “You caused quite the uprising with everyone upstairs.”

“I-um, yeah.” Tessa collected her hair and put it up into a ponytail so it wouldn’t get in her face, as she began to sweep the floor, “They seem to think that I can lift the curse…”

“And can you?” Will interrupted, a hint of something Tessa couldn’t place in his voice.

“I-I don’t know,” Tessa stuttered. It was as if Will was asking her if she could ever fall in love with him. Could she?

“I think you should leave.”

Tessa blinked and accidently dropped the broom, causing it to release a cloud of dust up in the air.

“What?” she asked blankly.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Will hissed and suddenly Tessa was pressed against the wall with an invisible weight against her, she could feel Will’s breath on her face,

“What the hell is you problem?” she gritted through her teeth, “Since I’ve gotten here you’ve treated me like this is my fault. Well news flash, it’s not. Actually, it’s yours. You got these people muddled up with this curse in the first place, so don’t act like you’re innocent.” She poked her finger into where she assumed Will’s chest was. She expected the boy to yell at her or even hit her. Instead he stepped away and coldness hit the place where he was moments ago.

“I know it’s my fault. But the only thing worse than this curse is false hope.” He whispered in a broken voice, “this is why I’m asking… _begging_ you to leave. We can’t take anymore disappointments.”

In the end the basement remained mostly untouched. It wasn’t because Will told Tessa to leave or he stormed out or she refused to work with him.

It was because precisely then Gabriel burst in, looking worried and dishevelled.

“Tessa come quick!” he panted as if he just ran a marathon, “there’s something wrong with your brother.”

“What?!” Tessa yelled, as she raced with the boy up the stairs, leaving Will forgotten in the basement.

“It’s the truth, I was out scouting and I came across Bane. He was on his way to inform you that your brother was gravely ill,” Gabriel said, frowning. The two skidded to a halt in the living room, where Jessie was talking with Cecily in hushed voices.

“Tessa!” Cecily gushed and Tessa felt invisible hands grab her shoulders, “Tessa your brother is ill…”

“I know I heard!” Tessa said hurriedly, biting her lip, “but what should I do? I can’t leave you guys…”

“Nonsense,” Charlotte grumbled from the floor, “he is your brother, you must go and see that he is well!”

“But…”

“No buts!” Gabriel stated, “you can go away. It’s just a few days, and you can come back.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Henry added with a detached sort of interest.

So with nobody disagreeing Tessa was packed and ready to go in minutes. Gabriel offered to come with her to Alicante, because he wanted to make sure she was safe when she got there. Before she left Jessie came over to her a plastic bottle filled with a shining blue liquid.

“This is part of our portal. You can get here in case of an emergency,” he said, chewing on his lip. He gave Tessa a quick hug as an afterthought, “come back quick okay?” Tessa nodded, her throat tight. She was scared that if she left this would all turn into a dream.

Will didn’t come to say goodbye.

With a heavy heart she walked to the gates with Gabriel, and the boy changed into a black sparrow as soon as they stepped out. The bird flying overhead was a reminder that Tessa wasn’t completely crazy.

↮

“How are you feeling?” Tessa asked for the third time, squeezing Nate’s pale hand.

“I’m fine Tess, especially now that you’re here,” he sent his sister a weak smile, “It’s just a cold. A bad one.”

“How long do you think it will last?” Tessa asked. She’s only been with Nate for a couple of hours but already she wanted to return to the Herondale Manor. Her hands were itching to reach for the portal bottle, just to see if Jessie made any new clothes, or if Lottie was being cuddled properly, or if Jem was feeling well.

She wanted to talk to Will, and find out why he wanted her to go.

“A couple days, why?” Nate asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I need to get back to the Manor, you know that.”

“Ugh, you can’t be serious,” Nate made a disgusted face, “That dirt hole? You don’t have to go anywhere, they can’t leave can they?”

“No, but I promised them,” Tessa untangled their hands and placed hers in her lap, “and anyway, I like them.”

“Oh please.” Nate snorted, “you like a cat, two men, a bird and a bunch of ghosts?”

“Excuse me, I think I need to go for a walk,” Tessa muttered, getting up. She knew if she stayed around Nate any longer she might explode. All those years he barely cared for her, yes he made sure she was educated and had food on the table, but he never bothered to talk to her about anything. Gideon and Gabriel and Cecily and Charlotte and Jessie and Henry and Jem and even Will. They were all more of a family than he ever was. Nate never came to her school productions or parent evenings. He was always ‘too busy,’ always leaving her by herself, since she could remember.

She slammed the door of their apartment shut and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat. She wandered aimlessly around the town square, avoiding people and just thinking about everything and anything. But no matter what, everything came back to Will. Tessa itched to see what he looked like, when he frowned, smirked, yelled. He had an air of coldness around him especially when it was just the two of them, but Tessa could see right through it. He cared so much for everyone in the house, and Tessa could only hope someone could love her that much someday. When you couldn’t see a person instead you concentrated on other aspects of them.

Tessa noticed how Will would be the first person by Jem’s side if the other one coughed or looked sickly. He sang, terribly off key, when he took a bath, which was weird because he had a rather pleasant voice. He liked to jump out from nowhere and scare Tessa and others,  just for fun. And Tessa wanted to see what he looked like doing those things.

And once again she wondered if she could ever fall in love with the ghost of a person.

“Teresa?!” a voice called out. Foolishly, Tessa spun on her heel to address whoever called her, “Teresa! It really is you!”

Axel Mortmain. Tessa swore in her mind, and put on a polite, fake smile,

“Axel, how nice to see you,” she said, itching to get away from him.  

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in like a month!”

“Um, yeah…I, um…I was away,” Tessa stuttered, “with some friends.”

“Well you’re back now,” Mortmain grinned, putting an arm around Tessa’s shoulders, “So much has happened whilst you were absent. There was a marvellous party at Alexei’s and I was the star of the evening. I went with Camille Belcourt, you’ve heard of her? She’s a friend of that Magnus person…”

“Yeah, Axel, actually I have to go…” Tessa ducked from under his arm, “sorry, Nate’s sick and I need to take care of him.”

“Well when can I see you again?” Mortmain asked with a sickening and slightly perverted smile,

“Actually I’m returning to my friend’s house as soon as Nate’s better,” Tessa tucked her hair behind her ear, “So I might be gone for a bit…”

“Well where do your friends live?” Mortmain asked with a frown, “I can come pick you up some weekend.”

“Oh, no, don’t bother,” Tessa said with a small smile, “they lived a long way away. I am sorry Axel, but I need to go!” and avoiding any other explanation, Tessa speed walked down the street.

When she got home Nate was watching YouTube videos.

“Are you serious right now?” Tessa hissed, “you were meant to be sick!”

“I am sick!” Nate said, slamming his laptop shut, “Can’t you see? I’m sick of worrying about my sister in some strangers house!”

“It’s more of a home than this is!” Tessa blurted gesturing around the bare room. Nate frowned,

“What happened to you, Tess?” he asked,

“I realised that those people need me the way you never needed me. You think I don’t know about all those jobs you took out of town just to have time away from me?!  I’m not that stupid, Nate! And I’m leaving!”

Tessa grabbed a bag and began blindly throwing clothes into it, her vision red with rage.

“Where the hell are you going?!” Nate asked angrily, getting out of bed,

“Home.” Tessa said simply, “goodbye Nate, I’ll see you later if you bother to get a hold of me,” and with that she flung the door open.

However that was when her amazing plan ran out because there was one Axel Mortmain standing there,

“Why did you run off Teresa?” he asked, stepping inside and nodding at Nate, “You always do this.”

“She’s been living at that Herondale Manor,” Nate spat, “and she thinks she belongs with all those… _freaks_ , leaving there.”

“They’re not freaks!” Tessa said defensively, clutching her bag to her chest.

“Please,” Mortmain rolled his eyes, “From what I’ve heard there’s a bunch of men living there and they never ever leave. Did you fall in love with one of them, the old geezers? Is that why you’re turning me down?”

He was getting closer and Tessa was backing away, as Nate looked impassive,

“It’s none of your business!” she said angrily.

“Axel,” Nate was examining his nails, “perhaps you should show my _sister_ what a real man is.”

They exchanged creepy glances and smiled and Tessa’s heartbeat sped up, but not in a good way.

“What the hell Nate?” she whispered.

“Go on, that rooms free,” Nate pointed at Tessa’s bedroom before disappearing in his own room. He shut the door and Mortmain turned to Tessa with purpose, he reached out and grabbed her upper arms,

“Should we go and have some fun, Teresa?” he asked, but he was already leaning forward and pressing his lips to Tessa’s. Unlike the kiss with Will, Tessa knew it was coming and therefore had an upper hand when she broke away and struck Mortmain in the face with her fist. His face whipped to the side and there was an angry red mark where her hand had made contact, but the leering grin didn’t disappear from the man’s face.

“Feisty, I like it,” Mortmain licked his lips. Tessa sprinted down the short hallway, into her room and slammed the door shut. She locked the door and pressed her body weight against it for good measure,

“Teresa,” Mortmain sang from the other side, “there’s no point hiding. You’ll come out sooner or later and we’ll have our _fun_.” The man chuckled, “I can wait. We have time.”

Tessa slid down the door as tears welled up in her eyes. Now that the adrenaline of escaping was gone the fear and horror of the situation gripped her heart. Her own brother left her in the hands of this man, practically a stranger, to be…raped? The thought made a sob escape Tessa’s throat.

“Aw darling,” Mortmain cooed, “no need to cry. You can’t stop this anyway, I’ll make it good I promise.”

Tessa slapped her hand over her mouth and moved away from the door, into the darkest corner of her room. _Get yourself together_ , she could practically hear Jessie’s voice in her head. She took a deep breath and racked her brain for anything that could help her in this situation. She didn’t have her phone, she left it at the Manor because she stopped using it, so calling Magnus was out. She didn’t know how else to communicate with him…

Suddenly a thought struck her. The portal in the bottle. She could use that to get to the Manor. She felt sick as she scrambled across the floor to where she dropped her bag. She could hear Mortmain whistling happily outside and the room began to spin. This whole thing was too much, she was tired and betrayed and angry and terrified. She reached for the bottle in her bag and pulled it out. The room filled with a floating blue light and she unscrewed the cap. She had no idea how to use the portal, but her hand was so unsteady that she accidently dropped it. The liquid spilled across the floor to form a large, shimmering puddle. Without a second thought Tessa fell into it, and it was like slipping through water, except she could breathe. Her last thought was of Will.

 ↮

When Tessa came to her senses it was dark. For a second she panicked, remembering what had happened and unsure of where she was. Then she felt a warm, calloused hand clutching her own,

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Tessa turned her head to see who was holding her hand. On a rickety old chair by her bed sat a boy she has never seen before. He had tanned skin and ebony hair that curled around his face like a dark halo. His eyes were a brilliant blue colour that shimmered in the darkness. His hand was squeezing Tessa’s like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Will.” She breathed, relief flooding her. She relaxed when he smiled, a soft, small, sad smile,

“You gave us quite a fright, falling out of the portal like that,” he said, his thumb brushing up and down her palm, “I’ve never been so scared in my life. What happened?”

“Nate, he’s such an arsehole. Mortmain came to our home and he tried to do…things to me. And Nate just let him,” Tessa said weakly, still feeling a bit sick, “How come I can see you?”

“I don’t know,” Will’s eyes were flashing with anger at Tessa’s earlier words, “Cecily and I, we just suddenly became visible. Seconds later you were on the floor, unconscious. Must’ve been something you thought.”

“I thought of you.” Tessa murmured, her eyes falling shut, her body heavy with exhaustion, “before I left. I thought of you. Of home.”

And then she was asleep.

↮

The next time Tessa woke up the sun was high in the sky. She had been asleep for a long, long time, and she’s never felt more rested than now. She yawned at stretched and looked at the chair where Will sat last night. She frowned when she saw no one there, and thought that maybe she imagined the whole thing.

The door opened by themselves and a tray levitated in the air,

“Will?” Tessa asked hopefully, sitting up.

“Nope,” Cecily kicked the door shut, “just me. Nice of you to return to us so soon.” She placed the tray in Tessa’s lap, and it was filled with pancakes and coffee. She felt her shoulder being squeezed briefly, “Will told us what happened.”

Tessa’s throat constricted but she smiled at where she hoped Cecily was,

“I can’t see you,” she said, “or did I dream that?”

“No. We turned invisible at sunrise, but hopefully we’ll be visible at night again. Come on, eat up, everyone downstairs wants to know how you are.”

So Tessa ate a toast and drunk some coffee and ate some more toast and proceeded to throw up into a bucket, with Cecily holding back her hair. The invisible girl opened the window and Tessa laid down for a bit. When she eventually stood up she felt better than before. She pulled on a pair of jeans that she brought from home, wondering how she managed to pull her bag through the portal with her.

The two girls padded downstairs, into the living room where a heated debate was taking place.

“I’m with Will,” Gabriel hissed, “the bastard needs to die.”

“I can’t believe we agree on something Lightworm,” there was something dark in Will’s voice.

“We can’t kill her brother,” Charlotte said, exasperated.

“Why not?” Jessie asked, cracking his knuckles, “he sure deserves it. And that Mortmain guy as well.”

“How about we leave the decision to Tessa, ey?” Cecily asked as the two walked in. There were shouts of ‘Tessa!’ and she was swarmed with people. Her heart warmed and the word ‘family’ flew through her mind.

“How are you Tess?” Gabriel asked,

“What did that bastard do?!” Jessamine exclaimed,

“It’s so good you’re back!” Charlotte added,

“Me alegro de que estés en una sola pieza!” Gideon butted in, in Spanish,

“We were really worried,” Jem said heatedly, a spark in his eyes,

“Especially Will,” Henry teased.

“Give the girl some space,” Will muttered, “Gabriel how about you make yourself useful and go on lookout?”

The boy rolled his eyes but walked to the door and Tessa could see him transform into a sparrow as he flew towards Alicante. She sat down and Gideon went to make tea,

“We were just saying how Mortmain and Nate deserve to die,” Jessie said with a sweet smile. Tessa shuddered,

“I don’t even want to think about them,” she said. Everyone agreed and nodded, “Tell me, did anything change?”

“Well as you obviously know me and Will are visible at night,” Cecily said happily, “but nobody else’s curse was altered.”

“Wait!” Jessamine exclaimed, “me and Cecy started working on this project, you’ve got to see it!” she sprinted upstairs and came back with folds of materials. Will and Gideon groaned as the three girls and Charlotte started obsessing over the cloths, sawing and cutting. And just like that it was back to normal.

Until Gabriel came back.

The sun was just setting and the girls finished working on an amazing cobalt dress that matched Cecily’s eyes when Gabriel hurled through the door. Everyone’s heads snapped up,

“Gab what’s wrong?” Cecily asked. The boy was flushed, and looked a lot like when he delivered the news that Nate was ‘sick.’ Except there was panic in his eyes.

“They’re coming!” he heaved.

“Who Gabriel?” Cecily jumped off the sofa, “Who’s coming?!”

“The villagers!” Gabriel collapsed onto the floor, “They think we are keeping Tessa hostage.”

“That’s bullshit!” Jessie exclaimed,

“They don’t know that!” Gabriel yelled in a high pitched voice, “and they are ready to dispose of everyone in this manor who isn’t Tessa.” There were gasps all around the room.

“What the hell are we meant to do?” Charlotte asked, her voice an octave higher than usual.

“Stay calm everyone,” Jem said, his face hard, “we know they’re coming. Which gives us the upper hand…”

That was the moment that Will and Cecily chose to stop being invisible. Tessa was struck by Will’s beauty, the hard lines of his face and the strong jaw. And those determined blue eyes. She tried not to stare and instead looked at Cecily. She had her brother eyes and hair, which was long and curly. Her face was softer but they had identical expressions on,

“Great,” Will groaned, “now we can’t take them by surprise. We’re visible.”

“Come on, we have to do something!” Cecily clutched her hair.

“We’re so close to breaking the curse,” Jessie muttered desperately, “Hey! Witch! This is cheating! We can’t break the curse if we’re dead!” he added louder. Then he started yelling, “at least gives us a chance and let us have some extra powers to protect ourselves! The house keeps people in, but doesn’t keep them out!”

There was an eerie silence in the room and then a voice came from the darkness in the corner,

“You are right. I will help you.”

Sophia stepped forward from the shadows.

↮

Mortmain had natural leading skills, so it was no surprise that after a quick and effective speech an impressive group of men from Alicante followed him to the Herondale manor. He wanted Tessa, as a wife, as a trophy. She was beautiful and that was enough for him. He had to have her. And he was so close. He had no idea how she had escaped that room, but he knew it would only make the moment he finally caught her so much more satisfying. Now all he had to do was break into that wretched manor, get her and arrest, or hopefully kill, the rest of those lunatics living there.

The mob moved up the mountain steadily as night fell. They were in trucks and cars, on motorcycles and there was even a mini bus. So many people, ready to rescue a helpless maiden. They made a lot of noise as they came closer to the Manor, which worried Mortmain, but not much.

They finally arrived at the dark, looming house. The lights were out and the gate was locked. That was no problem, someone in the van slammed forward into the fragile thing and sent it flying across the driveway. People spilled from the vehicles, carrying baseball bats and knives and torches. Mortmain went towards the front door first, confident, as Nate Grey hung near the back.

The large man kicked the door to the manor down without bothering to knock and was welcomed by darkness. He couldn’t see a thing and his confidence wavered slightly, still he stepped into the clutches of night with the mob following close behind. The light from the torches penetrated the dark and outlined objects in the hallway.

“Let’s split up!” Mortmain ordered, “Group one follow me, group two go down that hallway, group three and four go upstairs.”

The groups all followed the orders and went to their destinations. Nate kept close to group four and was glancing over his shoulder as he crawled up the stairs. Groups three and four split up as group three went down the first floor corridor and Nate’s group went up the next flight of stairs. The only light in the hallway came in through the moon that entered through arched French windows. It gave the corridor an eerie glow and the group hesitated to move forwards.

“Come on, men,” Alexei De Quincey, one of Mortmain’s close friends, huffed, “let’s find this poor girl.”

Nate didn’t want to think what would happen when they did eventually find his ‘sister.’ As the group went down the corridors men threw open doors and glanced inside rooms.

“Looks like someone lives here,” Archer, one of the men, said, “there’s clothes everywhere. Keep looking.”

But they only made it a couple of steps when all the doors on that level flew open, startling the men and making some of them squeak in fear. Heavy curtains fell over the windows, causing the corridor to explode into chaos and confusion as their source of light was cut off. Some men pulled out their witch lights to illuminate the hallway, and that’s when they saw the figure dressed in white disappearing inside one of the rooms,

“There!” Alexei pointed, “I think I saw the girl!”

The small crowd started forward into a room only to find themselves surrounded by mirrors. The door slammed shut behind them, and in the mass of their reflections they couldn’t find it again.

“Stay calm!” Nate ordered, though his heart was beating in his chest nervously, “Everyone look for the door.”

“There! Someone just ran past!” someone exclaimed. Everyone turned, looking around loudly, trying to find the girl.

“Maybe it’s the girl!”

“Maybe it’s a ghost!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Alexei snapped, though his eyes were nervously skittering around the room and his voice was shaking, “there’s no one there!”

Just then a face appeared at a corner of one of the mirrors, for a split second. People scrambled backwards, causing the closest mirror to fall over and shatter on the floor.

“Whoever’s here come out!” Archer called. There was no reply.

“Shatter those mirrors,” Alexei hissed, “They can’t hide if there’s nothing to hide behind.”

The men didn’t have to be told twice. Minutes and several cut fingers later, the mirrors were nothing but shattered glass on the floor.  A figure stood in one corner of the room, her brown hair flowing over her face.

“Tessa?” Nate asked, stepping forward, his shoes crunching the glass, “Tessa is that you?”

Just then the single window in the room exploded into shards that rained down on the men and a horde of sparrows flew in, circling their heads and pecking at their exposed skin.

“Get to the door! GET TO THE DOOR!” Nate yelled, trying to shield his face from the sharp beaks of the birds.

“This house is haunted!” Archer yelled, racing to the exit.  

↮

Meanwhile one floor underneath group three, led by Dark, was unaware of the chaos upstairs. This group was joking and laughing loudly to keep the chills away, even though the corridor was as dark as it was upstairs. Everyone quietened when they heard quiet sobbing. Someone lifted a witchlight high to illuminate the figure curled up on the floor.

It was a short, blonde girl in a bloodied dress.

“That isn’t Teresa Grey!” Walker exclaimed,

“Well then who is she?” someone in Dark’s group asked. Walker and some other men cautiously came over to the sobbing girl.

“Are you alright, lady?” George Penhallow asked, inching closer. The girl clumsily picked herself up, as if she was hurt, her hands covering her face, “are you hurt?”

The girl dropped her hands and the men cringed,

“You’re not a girl!” Walker exclaimed in distaste. The boy grinned mischievously and pulled off the blonde wig,

“Jessie Lovelace at your service,” he mocked bowed. Suddenly someone at the back of the crowd flew forward and slammed into two men, bringing them down to the floor with him,

“What the hell you fool?” Dark hissed.

“It wasn’t me I swear!” the man yelled, “someone pushed me!”

“There’s nobody there idiot!” Dark yelled, annoyed. Just then someone tugged on her hair. She whirled around ready to confront that someone, but found that there was nobody there.

“Hey where did that boy go?!” George yelled. And sure enough the cross dresser was gone, only a blood stain on the wall any indication that he was even there in the first place.

“I don’t know, but someone better explain to me what the hell is going on!” Dark screeched, turning around in circles, “Show yourself!”

A figure appeared right in front of her, with wide eyes and tangled black hair. The apparitions body disappeared around her waist, and she opened her mouth and let out a high pitched scream that echoed around even when she disappeared. The men from the group started to back away even as two of them were thrown against the closest walls. There was the sound of feet thumping down the stairs and people screaming,

“That’s group four!”

“They’re leaving…”

“We should too!”

“Let’s get outta here men!”

And just like that the fallen men scrambled to their feet and followed the other group.

“Come back you wimps!” Dark screeched as she ran after them, only to trip over nothing. She glanced around but didn’t see anything.

“Fuck this.” She muttered and followed her comrades.   

↮

The two smallest groups were downstairs. One group, led by Black, was in the kitchen,

“Any signs of her?” Black asked as her men searched,

“No,” Josiah Wayland said, “she’s not in the servants quarters.”

“Oh come on, she couldn’t just disappear!” Black snapped. Victor Whitelaw emerged from a room,

“Guys I found a basement maybe she’s there!” he said. The small group hurried to follow him and Black pushed herself to the head of the group. They descended down steep stairs into the basement. A few people coughed and sneezed as the air was filled with dust,

“Quiet!” Black hissed, “turn your torches on!”

But the light from the torches and witch lights combined didn’t make the darkness any less mysterious. Black was starting to regret being at the front, as she turned around corner and corner of the underground maze, “keep your eyes open for the girl,” she muttered, pushing forward, past wine cellars until they finally came to a stop in a disgusting, small room. There was a tiny window with steel bars near the ceiling.

“Pass me a witch light,” Black commanded. Someone passed one down and she held it up. Everywhere people gasped. There were blood stains on the walls and shackles coming out of the bricks, one side was decorated with rusty torture devices with old and fresh blood on them. But the worst part was the fragile, skinny guy with silver hair hanging limply with his hands tied to the wall. He had bruises and old blood on his face, his eyes swollen shut,

“H - help me p-please,” he rasped, moving his wrists weakly, making the shackles rattle.

“Who are you?” Victor asked, stepping forward,

“H-he’s here…” the boy whimpered, “he’s g-going to kill u-us…h-he’s h-here…”

“Who is?” Josiah asked, emotionless and calm as always. A terrible whisper echoed through the room in a different language,

“ _Quiero pastel…”_ the voice hissed. People looked around, the witch lights wavering. The boy let out a strangled whimper and then slumped to the ground.

“Is he dead?” someone from the crowd asked,

“It doesn’t matter,” Black hissed, “let’s get out of here. Miss Gray isn’t here.” But before anyone could take a step outside a terrible, barely human roar rumbled through the room. A door creaked open and a tall man stepped out. His skin was peeling off, and it was a disgusting grey colour, his blonde hair stuck out in clumps on his head and he was carrying a saw in his massive hand. There was blood on his face, his clothes, his weapon.

Nobody said anything and everyone turned around and ran for their lives, leaving the monster and the body behind and following the echo of footsteps of the other retreating groups to find their way out.

↮

The last group, that went straight to the living room, was led my Axel Mortmain himself. He  strolled right in and was surprised to see the room enveloped by warm candlelight. His men scanned the area,

“There is no sign of her,” John Shade said, eyes skittering,

“Look for her. She has to be somewhere here.” Mortmain gritted through his teeth. His little Tessa would be found soon, and then she would belong to him, “Spread out.”

The men followed the orders checking around the room, in wardrobes, under sofas.

“Not here!” someone called, then someone else yelped,

“Ouch! Something bit me!”

Mortmain scanned the floor and saw a blue cat skittering between people’s feet, biting their ankles,

“Get that cat!” John Shade yelled. He was unfortunately standing by the wall, under a shelf. On that shelf was a clock, which decide to fall at that precise moment, and hit him on the head, knocking him out.

“John!” some men yelled, running up to him.

“Leave him!” Mortmain snapped, “we need to find the girl.”

“But Axel…”

“I said find the girl!” just then a vase flew across the room and smashed into pieces on the wall.

“Who threw that?!”

“Not me!”

“There’s no one there!”

“Shut up and look for the girl!” Mortmain yelled, stamping his foot in frustration. The table in the corner was flipped upside down, its content falling to the floor with a crash. The men jumped,

“I think we should go now,” Japheth Pangborn said as he and another man hoisted John Shade up in between them, “the girl isn’t here, but someone else is.”

“No you fools!” Mortmain yelled. But men were already moving past him and out the door. A pillow flew and hit one of them in the back of the head,

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry!” he muttered, terrified, backing away. Footsteps ran out all around the room and the parlour was flooded with people trying to get out. Mortmain screamed at them to stop but even his own sisters were eager to leave the mansion. No matter what he tried, he just couldn’t stop them. In the end he was left by himself in the middle of the living room.

“Fine. I’ll find her myself then,” he hissed.

“Just give it up, Mortmain,” a male voice said.

“You’ve lost. Now leave,” another, this time female, added.

“Who are you?! Show yourselves!” Mortmain cried, spinning in circles, a cold sweat breaking over his skin “come on then!”

“Why would we do that? We’ve won anyway,” the girl tutted, “there’s one of you and many of us.”

“I need to find Teresa!” Mortmain yelled.

“She doesn’t want to be found. She’s happy here,” the male said.

“No she’s not. She’s not. Who are you?!”

“We’re just voices.”

“Yeah, you’re just crazy.”

“After all there’s nobody here.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Mortmain whimpered, covering his ears with his hands,

“Give it up already.”

“You’ve lost!”

Mortmain started to back out of the room,

“Who are you? Who are you?” he whispered. A boy with blue eyes and  black hair and a wicked grin appeared in front of him,

“We’re just ghosts.” He said.

Sophie came out of the shadows and raised her hand. With a swish of air Mortmain’s eyes rolled back and his knees hit the floor. And he saw darkness.

Gideon, Jessie, Tessa, Cecy, Gideon and Jem came down to the living room, grins on their faces.

“We did it!” Jessie squealed, throwing her arms around Gideon and Tessa. Gabriel, in his human form, walked in through the door,

“They’re gone,” he said with a toothy grin, “and I doubt they’ll come back anytime soon.”

Sophie cleared her throat and the smiles melted of everyone’s faces, replaced by frowns.

“Well I suppose I can’t just leave you like this,” the warlock said with a small smile of her own, “In that case, I reverse the curse.” She snapped her fingers and all the candles suddenly seemed to burn brighter. There were sharp intakes of breath that filled the room and Tessa whirled round to see what was going on.

Gabriel looked like he was in pain as the black wings retracted into his back, leaving a tiny scar in the middle that was a shade lighter than his skin. A series of surprised ‘oh’s!”’ escaped Jessamine as her curves returned and her blonde ringlets tumbled down her back like a golden waterfall. Where Henry the clock lay on the floor grew a tall ginger man with lanky arms and a surprised expression on his soft features. Charlotte yelped as she transformed back into a thin woman with brown hair and warm eyes.  Jem’s hair and eyes grew dark strand by strand until they were pitch black, and his cheeks filled with. Two identical pops sounded and Will and Cecily appeared out of nowhere. Tessa’s eyes were automatically drawn to Will’s and he smiled at her.

“Be nice, this probably won’t be the last you see of me,” Sophie winked, smiling, and then she was gone.

“I sure hope not.” Gideon said dreamily. That was when Will strode across the room, gathered a surprised Tessa in his arms, and kissed her.

↮

When Axel Mortmain came to his senses he was woken by the police and paramedics who were shaking him, asking how he was and what happened. When he swore that there had been ghosts haunting the house and a witch and a talking cat, the doctors called the closest mental hospital.

There were cobwebs and dust and mice in the house, the windows were grimy, the roof broken.

But there were no ghosts.

↮

_A year later._

The occupants of the house moved far, far away from Alicante. They went to London, where Magnus Bane pointed them in the direction of New York. That’s where they were now, more happy than ever. Nobody there knew who they were or what their story was, and that was good. For a while they have paid attention to newspapers from Idris, that spoke of the disappearance of Tessa Gray, but after a while they stopped.

Jessamine lived in a gorgeous little cottage in the woods, and was exploring the new fashions as well as embracing her femininity all over again, even though she swore she never lost it. She had a few boyfriends, but for now nobody permanent. She was set on ‘living life’ before she settled down. Which ended up with many nights in which Cecily and Tessa had to drag her passed out self out of a nightclub. She opened an antique store with some of the things they have nicked from the Herondale Manor.

Jem was enjoying a healthy life, appreciating ever little thing. He worked with Jessie in the shop but often gave concerts or violin lessons to college students. He hasn’t found anybody either, but he claimed he wasn’t looking. He lived in the house neighbouring to Will because the blue eyes boy swore he needed his best friend close to him, even though Jem’s life wasn’t at risk anymore.

Cecily and Gabriel moved into an apartment together, and Gabriel pursued the career of a pilot and was now one of the best in the country. He never could give up flying. Cecily returned to college after some persuasion from Charlotte, and has taken up an art course.

Speaking of Charlotte, she and Henry finally married, and the wedding was beautiful. They have adopted three cats that they named Ave, Atque and Vale and Charlotte applied, and got accepted, for a teacher position in a primary school. Henry became a mechanic, fixing cars and other things, and began to collect clocks, of all the things. He was a bit more dreamy than before, but nobody really minded. Now there was a baby on the way and Henry wanted to call him Buford.

Gideon spent the first three months in America trying to catch Sophie the warlock. With some help from Magnus and some of his warlock friends he finally got a hang of her in Florida. When he came home eventually, they were already dating. There were no hard feelings between her and everyone else, but Will did take some time trying to get used to her.

And then there was Will and Tessa.

They rent a house next door to Jem, and they are, quite simply, in love. They probably argue the most out of all the couples which usually ends up with either Will going to Jem’s house or Tessa going to Jessie’s. But when they eventually forgave each other it would end up with romantic kisses in the rain or…erm…other _things_. Tessa cut Nate off completely and started working at the local library, often bringing books home. Will tracked down some descendant of his, Jace, who was friends with someone who was friends with Magnus’ Bane’s boyfriend, and gave him the Herondale Manor to do whatever he wished with it. Overall the two of them were happy with each other, more happy than they ever were before.

Tessa was comfortably snuggled into Will’s side on their king sized bed as she watched snow fall outside the window and gather on the window sill. Will was reading A Tale Of Two Cities, _again_ , one of his hands playing with Tessa’s long hair,

“We should make dinner,” she said sleepily, her cheek pressed against Will’s chest.

“Mhm,” Will agreed, his eyes not leaving the book, as he leaned down and kissed the top of Tessa’s head. Just then Tessa’s phone started blaring ‘Welcome to the Black Parade,’ and Will jumped, dropping his book.

“By the Angel, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” he muttered, clutching his heart dramatically. Tessa rolled her eyes at him and picked up her phone, to see Henry’s face filling the screen,

“Hello?” she asked, balancing it between her shoulder and ear as she laid back down. She shot up almost immediately, “What?! Now? But…okay! Calm down, we’re on our way!” she stood up and hanged up, pulling out a coat from the wardrobe. “Get your butt up Will, Lottie’s in labour!”

Minutes later Tessa was starting the car, her hands drumming an irregular beat on the steering wheel as Will went to grab Jem. The two dark haired boys emerged from Jem’s house, shielding their faces from the snow,

“Let’s go!” Tessa said impatiently as Will slid in beside her and Jem jumped into the back. He pressed a chaste kiss to Tessa’s cheek,

“Nice to see you too, Tess,” he said with a smile. It immediately calmed Tessa down.

When they got to the hospital they saw Jessamine, with damp hair as if she just stepped out of the shower, Cecily, Gideon, Gabriel and Sophie sitting on the chairs, looking nervous and impatient. Henry was pacing up and down the corridor wringing his hands out,

“They won’t let me in!” he said, looking up at Tessa, Jem and Will, desperately, “I’m the father and they won’t bloody let me in!”

“Hey it’s okay, Henry,” Tessa embraced the worried man and he slumped against her, “Charlotte’s in good hands.”

Just then a scream came through the closed door, followed by a moan and a whimper. Henry ripped himself away from Tessa and went for the closed doors but Gideon and Gabriel were already there, restraining him,

“Hey, hey,” Jem grabbed Henry’s face and made him look at him, “It’s okay. She’s just giving birth, it’s alright.”

Henry collapsed onto one of the plastic chairs with a heavy sigh, his face in his hands. Jessamine rubbed his back in comfort. They sat in silence for a bit, listening to the sounds coming through the doors. Henry jumped every time he heard Charlotte’s scream, but Jessie’s hand on his back stopped him from running to her. Gideon and Sophie  were talking in hushed voices and Gabriel was biting his fingernails, and every time Cecily hit his arm gently to get him to top, he’d return to it after a few seconds. Jem sat on the other side of Henry, a comforting presence, and Tessa leaned on the wall and Will came to stand next to her. He reached down and grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers together. Tessa squeezed his hand and sent him a tight smile.

Then a baby wail rang through the door and this time nobody stopped Henry from running to his wife, in fact they all followed closely behind, tumbling into the room and tripping over each other. Charlotte sat on a bed that was stained with some blood, looking  exhausted and sweaty and absolutely content. There was a tiny, red bundle in her arms, that was wailing softly. Everyone kind of stood around the bed with their mouths hanging open, as the nurses bustled around. Finally Henry cleared his throat,

“Can-Can I…” he was getting choked up, “Can I h-hold him?”

Charlotte nodded, her eyes peaceful as she passed the baby to Henry. He held the bundle awkwardly as if he wasn’t sure how to, and muttered words to him.

“Hey sweetie, I’m your daddy. Look at you, you cute little thing, you look just like your mommy…”

Tessa went over to Charlotte and squeezed her hand. The older woman sent her a calming smile,

“We’re going to name him Charles.”

“Yes, Charles Buford,” Henry nodded, mesmerized by his son, “Charles Buford Branwell. It’s beautiful isn’t it?” he asked nobody in particular, “Here Tessa you hold him,” he passed the baby to her. Surprised, Tessa took the boy from him,

“Hello Charlie,” she said softly, folding the baby into her arms. His face was pink, and his eyes shut but there was a tiny tuft of bright orange hair on his otherwise bald head, “He really is beautiful.”

“We were going to ask you and Will to be the godparents.” Charlotte said.

“Oh Gosh, we’d love to!” Will gushed, eyes sparkling.

Everyone else crowded around Tessa, cooing at the baby while Henry went to embrace his wife. When Tessa looked up she saw Will was standing where she left him, his eyes sparkling and the most loving expression on his face as he watched her hold the baby.

“Here Cecy,” Tessa passed the girl the baby, ignoring her protests of ‘I don’t know what to do with him!’ The brown haired girl went to stand with Will.

“Why are you staring like that, don’t you want to hold the baby?” Tessa asked, hugging him. The boy wrapped his arms around her as the rest of the group levitated back to Lottie’s bed, returning the baby to her and filling  the room with loud voices and laughter.

“Nah, I’d probably drop him by accident,” Will smiled into Tessa’s hair, “I just thought you’d make a wonderful mother.” He added, leaning down to press a warm, loving kiss to her lips.

Later that night when Jem said goodnight and went back inside his house and Tessa looked for their own house key, Will knelt down in the snow and proposed to her right there and then. And she said yes.

_Tessa wondered if she would ever be able to fall in love with the ghost of a boy._

She didn’t have to worry, she already did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed ;)


	3. The Little Avenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is a skinny, ill orphan. He has always been a skinny, ill orphan, and he probably will forever be a skinny, ill orphan. Or maybe the chance encounter with a certain superhero will change his life forever, and he'll have a chance to be something else than a skinny, ill orphan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fury turned out a bit like Ice Cube in 22 Jump Street, oops.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: THIS DOESN’T ACTUALLY HAVE MERMAIDS.
> 
> Ps. Sorry if the characters are ooc and this is very loosely based on The Little Mermaid.
> 
> Pps. Bucky’s 19 in this fic and Steve’s 17.

  **The Little Avenger**

Nick Fury, the director of SHIELD Orphanage cracked his knuckles menacingly, and Phil Coulson winced.

“Where. Are. They?” Fury hissed, glaring at Coulson with his one eye. The agent swallowed, clutching his briefcase anxiously.

“I-I don’t know, sir,” he stuttered. Fury slammed his big fist against his desk, causing the other man to flinch and swallow,

“You’re their social worker, for fuck’s sake!” the director yelled, “What do ya mean you don’t know?!”

“I-I…they didn’t c-come to their sessions and I…well…” before Coulson could finish Fury sighed and leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his worn out face,

“Whatever. I’ll deal with this myself,” he waved a hand at Coulson without looking up, “Scram.” The agent didn’t need to be told twice as he all but sprinted from the director’s office.

↮

This was probably the part when one friend goes ‘this is a bad idea, we should go back,’ but this was not the case with the SHIELD orphans. As Steven Rogers crept underneath the yellow police tape, his three friends followed with huge smiles on their faces, not one of them willing to return home  – not yet.

“Steve!” Anthony Stark hissed, “there’s a door right there. Go, before the cops turn around!” he pointed to a dark, blown out hole in the wall.

“That’s not a door, idiot,” Thor Odinson muttered, “that’s a hole.”

“Shove a dick in your mouth and shut up.” Natasha Romanoff glared at the two boys.

“Shhh, guys,” Steve said as he pressed himself to the wall, moving close to the shadows to avoid being seen by the police, who were milling around pointlessly. Just earlier that day there was a robbery in the bank that used to reside in this building. There had been a bomb, and explosions but nobody died because the mysterious Winter Soldier appeared, and saved the day _yet again_. The four orphans couldn’t miss a chance for some excitement, so they came here past curfew. They knew Fury would have their heads for this, but right now they were too busy sneaking around to think about that.

And who could blame them?

They were seventeen, bored and well…orphaned. They felt the need to rebel against everything and anything, no matter how big and petty. Everyone at the Orphanage knew better than to try and stop them. Steve assumed that part of the reason why none of them have ever been adopted was because of their criminal records and general behaviour.

Natasha was easily the prettiest girl at the Orphanage, with her short red curls, curvy body and sharp Russian tounge. But everyone knew better than to go for her, not with her three friends always around. In all honesty, Steve knew that the girl could protect herself better than him and his friends combined. The worst thing Natasha has ever done was steal a gun, though she never shot it.

Tony was a brainiac, which didn’t stop him from being tall and handsome and flirty. He had girls hanging off his arms whenever he went, and he was not allowed to have a female social worker, because…well, he tended to sleep with them. He smoked and drank but didn’t do drugs because he said they hurt his head. The worst thing Tony ever did was break into the army secret files and blackmail them, though he never used the information.

Thor was a foreigner. Nobody quite knew where he was from, but nobody dared to ask. Although Thor looked like a giant who could crush you with his hand, he was actually a massive sweetheart. The worst thing he ever did was beat someone up, but he never killed anybody.  

And then there was Steve. Steve was small, and skinny, and blonde. He looked like a little angel and he liked to draw and read comics, and think about the army. Nobody suspected him to hang out with people like Tony and Natasha and Thor, but he was probably the most feared person at the orphanage. The worst thing Steve ever did was kill someone.

“Dude’s like a superhero,” Steve said in awe as the group stepped into the now abandoned building. It was dark inside, and there were stains on the walls, like smoke and blood. It stank and Thor coughed when he got a mouthful of dust.

“Ew,” Tony muttered, stepping over a bloody patch on the floor. Steve circled the room and observed the destruction. The ceiling looked scarily unsteady but that just added a thrill to the whole thing. Tentatively, Steve reached out a hand to touch the cold, stone wall. His palm was freakishly pale against the bricks, and he quickly snatched it away. He hated he was so small and sickly, it prevented him from being the one thing he wanted to be – a hero. Not necessarily a superhero, he’d love to be a doctor, a paramedic, someone who saves life. But he couldn’t be, because his own life needed saving. He couldn’t even take care of himself.

“Steve you alright?” Natasha asked, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. She was taller than him.

“I’m fine Nat,” Steve smiled at his best friend and turned to the group, “Well who wants to go upstairs?”

They climbed up the creaking staircase, and avoided the holes blown in the steps. Tony flipped on the light on his phone to guide them through the maze of blackened corridors, but it didn’t help when he stepped into something soft and squishy. The group entered another room. One of the walls was nothing more than a crumbled mess, with police tape surrounding it. All the windows were smashed, letting in the chill. Natasha shivered and wrapped her leather jacket tighter around herself. Thor nudged a piece of glass on the floor with his shoes. It was stained with blood,

“The Winter Soldier really messed these guys up, ey?” he asked with a grin.

“Yeah, he’s in hospital, guarded by police twenty four seven,” Steve said, running his slim fingers over the jagged edges of a window. Natasha roughly grabbed him by the back of his hoodie and yanked him away from the window,

“You idiot, there’s police downstairs,” Tony hissed, “do you want to be caught, _again_?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve raised his hands in surrender. He trailed away from his friends into a smaller room, wandering about the Winter Soldier and where he was now, his identity and how he escaped the burning building. The answer to his last question was granted when he peered through the single window in the room, which led down to a low roof. _So he jumped_ , Steve thought, absentmindedly fingering the shards of glass remaining in the frame of the window. They were stained red.

He was about to go back to the main room and tell the others that they should get back, when he heard a lot of commotion and shouting. On instinct, he crouched down, biting down on his lip. He could hear Natasha arguing, and Tony shouting and some men yelling at them. Police.

Without a second though Steve raced to the window and began to push his small body through the frame. He was on the windowsill on the other side, wondering which angle was the best to jump at when the door to the room burst open and an officer barged in,

“Don’t move kid!” he yelled, but it was too late as Steve was already jumping. For a second he was sailing through the air, like a bird, his arms outstretched. Then he slammed into the roof, landing on his feet. His knees crumbled at the impact. By the time he got back to his feet the window was empty, the officer racing down to, no doubt, arrest him. He could see Natasha, Thor and Tony being forced into a police cruiser, but he didn’t stick around to see them get escorted back to the orphanage. Instead, his attention was on the rusty red decorating the roof in splatters, reflecting the moonlight. He read enough comics to know that it was blood, and that whoever it belonged to was injured. He followed the trail like any sane person would.

↮

Steve was ready to give up. It was getting very, very late and he was cold, his hoodie not shielding his skinny frame from the cutting wind. He had to jump numerous times from roof to roof, lost the trail and couple of times, and eventually found himself back on the ground, following the bloody trail in a maze of alleyways, the light from his phone the only thing to guide him. His lungs struggled for breath, and he had to take a few pumps out of his asthma pump.

When his breathing returned to normal, Steve found himself in a particularly nasty alleyway. He yawned, shivered and decided to turn around. He hadn’t made it two steps when he heard something rattle by the overflowing dustbins, followed by a groan and quiet swearing in what sounded a lot like Natasha’s language. Steve froze, and then slowly turned around. There between two bins, barely noticeable in the shadows was the silhouette of a man, hunched over in pain.

“I-erm, a-are you okay?” the blonde asked hesitantly, suddenly afraid. He ignored the hammering of his heart and stepped forward. He slowly took out his phone and shone it at the figure.

“Shit kid, put that down you’re hurting my eyes,” the man grumbled, shielding his face.

“I’m not a kid.” Steve protested, fumbling with his phone and finally managed to shroud the alley in darkness, “do you need help?”

“I’m fine.” The man said gruffly, and proceeded to hiss in pain. Steve started forward and knelt down next to him,

“You’re not fine, you’re hurt,” he said firmly, “here let me…” he reached for the man but he flinched away, right into the patch of moonlight on the wall. Steve gasped and scurried away. The man had long, tangled brown hair and blue – grey eyes. He had a metal suit on with brown leather straps and a red star on his shoulder. The lower half of his face was covered with a metal mask.

“Y-you’re the W-Winter soldier!” Steve gasped, pointing. The man let out an unamused laugh, which ended in a ragged cough.

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. That’s when Steve finally saw the messily patched up wound on the Winter Soldier’s side, which was oozing blood lazily.

“Hey, hey!” he called to the man. The Winter Soldier cracked one eye open,

“What?” he asked weakly. Steve didn’t bother to answer as reached towards him with trembling hands. He gently unwound the dirty cloth from the Winter Soldier’s body, ignoring the hiss of pain that elicited from the man, he didn’t make a move to stop him. Steve wished he was the one that carried bandages and painkillers instead of Natasha. He threw the dirty cloth to the side and observed the wound, ignoring the nausea that rose in his throat as he saw the dark bloody oozing out of an uneven, jagged cut. He suddenly understood where the blood on the glass came from. Steve looked around helplessly for something that he could dress the wound with, and finding nothing he pulled off his hoodie and his white school shirt, ignoring the biting wind and the blush rising on his pale chest, thankful that the Winter Soldier’s eyes were screwed shut and that it was dark, so he couldn’t see Steve’s ribs, pressed tight against his skin. He put hid hoodie back on hastily, 

“This might hurt.” Steve warned in a trembling voice, balling his shirt up into a ball and pressing it against the wound, hard. The other man gritted his teeth in pain but didn’t scream out. Steve watched mesmerized as red soaked his pristine shirt, but he realised that that wasn’t going to save the man, “We need to call the ambulance,” he said. The Winter Soldier opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it, and gave Steve a tight nod.

“T-take my mask. And, ugh, the suit.” The hero weakly reached for a bag that was lying next to me, “help me change. I don’t want them to find out who I am.” He added in a whisper. Steve quickly unzipped the bag and pulled out a shirt and a pair of jeans. The next few minutes drained Steve completely. He had to take off The Winter Soldier’s suit piece by piece, at the same time trying to stop the blood from flowing. The older man could barely move and Steve had a hard time putting the clean clothes back on him. His arms ached and it was hard to do that in the dark. Finally the man was dressed like a civilian and Steve packed his own bloodied shirt and the pieces of The Winter Soldier’s armour into the bag,

“Gimme your mask,” he said tiredly, wiping his bloodied hands on his hoodie. The Winter Soldier hesitated for a second, but then reached up and took his mask off. An unfamiliar and unwanted something twisted Steve’s insides and his heartbeat sped up, blood rushing to his face. The Winter Soldier passed him the mask, oblivious to Steve’s reaction. Of course the hero had to be gorgeous, they always were. Steve shook it off, threw the mask into the bag, zipped it up and pulled out his phone, dialling 911.

“Hello? I erm…ambulance please…” Steve murmured tiredly, “to…” he glanced around and spotted a sign, “24 Shaftsbury Avenue. Yeah…yeah. Um, he’s like, erm…bleeding. Like a l-lot…no, I just found him. He’s like falling a-asleep…erm,” he turned to the Winter Soldier, covering the speaker, “What’s your name?”

“Bucky.” The man whispered, his breath shallow. He frowned to himself and shook his head, “no. Um, James. James Barnes.” Steve repeated the name into the phone, ignoring his fluttering heartbeat. The Winter Soldier had a name, and he trusted Steve, a complete stranger, enough to give it to him. The operator promised that they would send an ambulance as soon as possible. The next few minutes dragged on. Steve tried to keep James awake, blabbering to him about everything and nothing, his small hands pressing down onto the shirt that covered the other boys wound.

“You’ll be okay. They’re on their way, it’s okay. See? H-hey! Open your eyes, what colour are they? They’re like blue grey something. I um, please don’t die. I hate dead bodies they make me feel s-sick,” James wasn’t reacting to his words, so Steve desperately reached for his hand with his own bloodied one, and squeezed. James’ eyes fluttered open and he offered Steve a weak smile. They heard the faraway sound of an ambulance, speeding down the dark streets.

“Take-” James coughed, “take the bag, they can’t find it.” His eyes were tired, but determined.

“O-okay,” Steve let go of James’ warm hand, and stood up clumsily. He slung the heavy bag over his shoulder and stumbled. The two boys stared at each other for a moment.

“I-um…James…” Steve started, unsure of what to tell the superhero.

“Bucky.”

“What?” Steve blinked, confused.

“Call me Bucky.”

“Oh…” Steve blushed, and clutched the bag to his chest. He smiled shyly at the other boy. The ambulance was getting closer, “Well, hope you feel better…Bucky.”

“Thanks Blondie,” Bucky smiled, and closed his eyes. The red and blue lights of the ambulance reflected on the walls of the alley as it sped around the corner. Before Steve could change his mind, he turned on his heel and ran the way he came, with Bucky’s bag slamming against his hip.

↮

Steve, Tony, Thor and Natasha were past the point of trying to sneak in and out of windows, and Nick Fury was past the point of leaving people on guard by said windows. He now looked more like a middle aged mother, sitting on a sofa, facing the door. And when Steve stumbled in, at 2am, Fury was right there to welcome him.

“Rogers.” Fury smiled, and Steve knew he was screwed, “How nice of you to grace us with your presence. I was getting quite worried, especially  since you weren’t at my doorstep two hours ago with the rest of your friends. And the police of course.” Fury’s face shifted into a dark expression, “to your room. Now. You are grounded.”

Steve didn’t argue, not this time. He was too tired, and the bag he was hiding behind his back – Bucky’s bag – was heavy. So he mumbled a ‘yes sir’ and shuffled up the stairs. He heard Fury sigh behind him.

The second he stepped into the room he and Tony shared, he was assaulted by bodies.

“Where the fuck were  you?!” Natasha hissed, punching him in the arm, before putting her arms around him. Tony grinned at him and Thor affectionately ruffled his hair.

“I-erm…I, um, got lost,” Steve mumbled, trying to hide Bucky’s bag behind his small back. He hated lying to his friends.

Unfortunately Natasha saw him move his arm,

“Steve,” She said, peering behind him, “Who’s bag is that?”

“W-what? N-no one’s…” Steve exclaimed, backing away. But he was too slow, in seconds Tony was on him, pinning him to the floor with his weight as Natasha snatched Bucky’s bag away.

“Sorry honey,” Tony said with a smirk, easily picking Steve up and setting him back on his feet. Natasha opened the bag and gasped.

“ _Steven Rogers_ ,” she hissed, “why do you have the Winter Soldiers costume?!”

Tony released Steve as he and Thor hurried to take a look. They pulled out the bloodied clothes,

“Guys stop!” Steve said helplessly, “Don’t damage it!”

“How did you get this, Steve?” Thor asked, holding Bucky’s mask to the light, examining it.

“Does this mean you know the Winter Soldier’s real identity?!” Tony gushed, eyes bright.

“Steve answer the questions!” Natasha practically yelled,

“Okay! Okay! Just be quiet!” Steve agreed, peering out into the darkened corridor worriedly.

So Steve told them, about the trek on the roof, following the blood, how he met the Winter Soldier and helped him, called the ambulance. How the Winter Soldier trusted him with his costume. The only thing he left out was Bucky’s real identity.

When he’d finished explaining his three friends stared at him blankly for a second. Then Tony burst out laughing, Natasha grinned and Thor said ‘nice one, mate.’ When they managed to calm Tony down enough for him to talk again, Thor asked,

“So how is he going to get his costume back?”

Steve froze. He hadn’t thought about that. If Bucky didn’t have his costume, then he wouldn’t be able to save anyone. And people would die. Steve nibbled on his lip,

“Don’t worry,” Natasha placed a hand on his shoulder, “We’ll figure something out tomorrow.”

“I still can’t believe you save the Winter Soldier…,” Thor muttered in awe.

Steve was thankful that Natasha was controlling this situation, because he was physically – and mentally – exhausted. Tony switched the light off and the only illumination in the room came from his weird projects that were stacked in the corner.

“Scoot up Thor,” Natasha grumbled from the floor, where she and the blonde crashed, too tired to go back to their own rooms.

“Shut up Nat,” Tony whispered,

“Don’t tell me what to do, Stark!” Natasha hissed,

“Stop arguing,” Steve yawned,

“Whatever,” Natasha mumbled, “Goodnight Steve.”

“Goodnight Nat,” Steve said with a small smile, “goodnight Tony.”

“Night Steve,” Tony mumbled, “night Thor.”

“Night Tony,” Thor said blissfully, “night Nat. Night Steve.”

“Night Thor,” Natasha and Steve said at the same time. Then, after a moment,

“Goodnight Tony,” Natasha whispered,

“Night Nat.”

↮

Bucky returned to his apartment the next morning, all patched up. He had to practically force the hospital to let him return home, but they couldn’t keep him anywhere without his consent. So now he stumbled through the front door, his wound aching slightly, but he didn’t mind because he was finally home. He hated hospitals.

When the door slammed shut one of his housemates ran out of his room,

“Oh thank Odin, Bucky,” Bruce Banner gushed, patting his hands over Bucky’s body, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” Bucky battered the other superhero’s hands away, “Seriously. It’s just a scratch.”

“Where in the world is your costume?” Clint Barton, Bucky’s other roommate, asked, leaning on the stairs, Sam, Bucky’s best friend, at his side.

“It’s a long story,” Bucky ran a hand down his face. He tried to not let his worry show, but last night he was so weak and confused that he didn’t ask for the guy’s name. Or address. Or anything that could tell him where to find the boy and get his costume back.

“Well we spent the entire night worrying about you!” Bruce frowned, “I think you owe us an explanation!”

Bucky collapsed onto their black, leather sofa, and sighed.

“Last night I got hurt.”

“We gathered that.” Clint rolled his eyes. Bucky gave him a puzzled look,

“The hospital called.” Sam explained.

“Oh,” Bucky said. Bruce brought him a steaming cup of coffee, “Thanks. Anyway, I got hurt and tried to get home, but I ended up collapsing in some alleyway.”

“Why didn’t you call us?” Bruce demanded,

“I lost my phone on the way,” Bucky explained, “So I was lying in this dark, dirty alleyway, slowly bleeding out, when this…boy, came out of nowhere.” Without meaning to, he smiled, remembering the frantic, babbling blonde, “He was really cute as well…”

Clint and Bruce exchange a look, Sam rolled his eyes.

“Not again,” he muttered.

“Oi! Focus! You can tell us about your man hunting later,” Clint said, snapping his fingers in front of Bucky’s face. Bucky cleared his head,

“Yeah so he found me and called the ambulance. And I kind of gave him my suit?” Bucky said cautiously, with an apologetic smile. Clint groaned and Bruce gave him a disbelieving look.

“And let me guess. You have no clue who this boy is?” Clint asked. Bucky shrugged and shook his head, “Great. So this random citizen has your superhero suit! What are we going to do now?! We have a mission tomorrow!”

“Calm down, Clint,” Bruce shushed him, “Can you tell us what the boy looked like?”

Bucky frowned, searching through the hazy memories of the night before.

“He was blonde.” Bucky said, “And really small and skinny. I think he was wearing a logo of some sorts on his hoodie…”

“Yes! Good!” Bruce smiled, “Okay, what did it look like?” Bucky shrugged, and Bruce’s face fell, “Okay, Bucks, how about you go catch up on some sleep and we’ll try to find the boy.”

“Maybe he has a criminal record, was admitted to hospitals?” Sam offered.

“Thanks guys,” Bucky stood up, hugged Bruce with one arm, ruffled Clint’s hair and wobbled to his room.

“Why do we always have to do the dirty work?” Clint asked, annoyed.

Bruce didn’t reply, instead sat down and began hacking into police records, searching through the millions of young, blonde boys that popped up.

↮

It seemed that the second Bucky’s head hit the pillow he was being shaken awake.

“Bucky! We found him!” Bruce’s excited voice broke through Bucky’s haze of sleep. The man sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes,

“You did?” he asked, and yawned. He seriously doubted it.

“Well…we think so…” Bruce hesitated, pulling his sleeves over his hands, “You better come take a look…”

Sighing Bucky got out of bed and followed Bruce into the living room. He wasn’t feeling very optimistic about the whole thing, sure he trusted Bruce and his hacking skills, but there was a slim chance that they could actually find the blonde from the night before.

Bucky should’ve gotten his fucking name. Guess you don’t think about things like that when you’re busy dying.

Clint was sitting in front of the laptop, scrolling through pictures and news reports, frowning with Sam next to him, eating ice cream out of the tub.

“Your mystery boy’s not an angel,” Sam said simply, passing Bucky the laptop. Bucky’s eyes focused on the picture at the top of an article. It was a large, vintage building with the words _SHIELD Orphanage_ engraved into a wall. He glanced at Clint. What did this have to do with the guy from last night?

“Just read it,” Bruce said, plopping down on the couch and curling around a pillow. Bucky’s eyes scanned the page.

_The four seventeen year olds from SHIELD Orphanage, ran by Nick Fury, have been caught illegally street racing last week. These delinquents have been in trouble many times before, and have been associated with crimes like breaking and entering, theft and street fighting. These kids have one strike left with the police, and if they decide to not obey the rules, they will end up in jail the day they turn eighteen – however for now they will have to perform six months of community service. We had an interview with the Orphanage’s agent, Phillip Coulson, and he states that…_

Bucky scrolled past the interview with the agent and froze when he reached the photos of the teenagers. The first one was a girl, who was flipping the camera off, underneath her photograph her name was written – _Natasha Romanoff_. Bucky didn’t linger on her, instead quickly checking the next guy. This boy had a stubble and was smirking suggestively at the camera. _Anthony Stark_. Bucky was getting frustrated, he scrolled down even more and his heart skipped a beat when he saw a blond guy. However he quickly realised that it wasn’t the boy from before. This guy was way too tall and bulky, with long hair and a friendly smile. He was waving at the camera. _Thor Odinson_ , weird name but who cares. Bucky was close to giving up when he saw the picture of the last boy, and his heart gave a tug.

 _Steven Rogers_.

The boy was looking surprised, the camera catching him off guard. His blonde hair was messy, framing his gorgeous face, and his blue eyes were wide. He somehow managed to pull off the orange jumpsuit. Bucky’s heartbeat sped up,

“It’s him!” he whispered.

“Told you.” Clint grinned and leaned back in his chair.

“I-I need to see him!” Bucky said, grabbing his coat.

“What? Now?!” Bruce asked in disbelief.

“I-yes, yes, right now. I need to…erm, get my costume back!” and with that he was gone.

Bruce and Clint glanced at each other.

“Yeah sure, ‘get his costume back’ my ass.” Sam sighed.  

↮

Steve collapsed onto his bed with a groan. He hated community service so fucking much. His arms ached from scrubbing the walls free of graffiti and his lungs hurt because of the asthma attack he got when he was chased down an alleyway by some stray dog.

He had no clue where Tony went, as the boy disappeared right after his service was over, probably running after some girl. Steve laid in bed for a few minutes, staring at the posters on his wall. His heart gave a tug when he glanced at his newspaper clippings about the Winter Soldier. There was a life sized poster of Bucky on his wall, it was just a drawing and it in no way captured the real thing.  

Steve sighed again and twisted round, sitting up and pulling Bucky’s bag from underneath his bed. He carefully opened it and took out the costume. It was blood soaked and filthy, but Steve didn’t want to throw it away. He took out the mask and held it in his hands for a moment – what was he meant to do with it? Frustrated, Steve threw the mask back into the bag and kicked it under the bed.

He took a shower, brushed his teeth and jumped into bed, tired by the day’s events. He knew there was no point waiting for Tony, as the boy would probably come back to his room in the morning. With that Steve let his eyes drift shut.

↮

Steve had a pretty deep sleep, but the one thing he couldn’t stand was the cold. He organism was weak, and he became ill very easily. That’s why the unspoken rule in his dorm room was that the windows stay closed at all times, unless its summer.

The cold air was what woke him, not the footsteps or clattering about. Steve shot up in bed, terrified. He thought it was Tony, but instead he saw a much taller and muscular figure fit in through the window. Tony’s bed was still empty.

“W-what the hell?” Steve gasped, pressed up against the wall, holding a pillow protectively in front of his chest. The person grumbled and stumbled around, eventually finding the light switch. Light flooded the room. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, but then opened them carefully. A man stared back at him.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, relief flooding him. He slumped against the wall, “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck nervously as Steve got out of bed, dressed in a long sleeved black shirt and cotton pants. Although most of his body was covered, he felt weirdly exposed. Bucky’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, before his eyes snapped up to look at his wall. He looked taken aback.

Suddenly, Steve realised that he just saw posters of himself, all over Steve’s wall. The blonde blushed and stared at his feet miserably.

“Didn’t know you were a fan…” Bucky said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, well…” Steve shuffled in place, “Erm, why are you here?” he asked, looking up from under his eyelashes.

“I…” Bucky stared at him. Then he shook his head and looked elsewhere, “I came to get my stuff back.”

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed, “Oh! Of course, sorry, my bad, let me get it for you!”

Steve got down onto his knees and reached under the bed, pulling Bucky’s bag out. The Winter Soldier flushed and tried not to stare at Steve’s butt, and he failed miserably.

“Here,” Steve handed Bucky the bag, struggling with its weight. Bucky took it from him, and was about to say something when they heard voices from down the corridor.

“That is the last straw Stark!” Fury yelled angrily, voice muffled by the walls.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Tony answered sheepishly, although you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“You have to go!” Steve whispered to Bucky, pushing him towards the window, dread feeling his body. How was he going to explain this to Fury?!

“Thanks,” Bucky said. Then he quickly wrapped a strong arm around Steve’s waist, pulling him close. He placed a kiss on Steve’s forehead, and before the blonde could react, he gracefully jumped out of the window. Just in time as well, because precisely then the doors burst open and Fury stepped in, dragging Tony in by the ear.

“Rogers! What are you up to, eh? Why are you not asleep?!” the director demanded.

“I heard the ruckus you two were making,” Steve said, still baffled by Bucky’s actions, “I’m going to sleep.” He added, jumping back under the covers.

“We will talk tomorrow, Stark!” Fury fumed, “Goodnight boys.” And he walked out, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Phew!” Tony smirked, falling onto his bed.

“What did you do this time?” Steve asked,

“Nothing. Just might have sneaked into Pepper Pott’s room and made out with her a little bit.”

“Yuck,” Steve said, with a fond smile as his eyes fluttered shut.

“I’m telling you, she’s the one Stevie,” Tony said dreamily, “Why were you really up?”

“No reason,” Steve mumbled, feeling tiredness overwhelm him as he thought of Bucky and the way his lips felt on his forehead. His hand absentmindedly reached up to brush the skin there.

“Seriously?” Tony inquired. Steve was almost asleep,

“Yeah nothing happened. Bucky came and took his bag. Yeah, nothing…” Steve murmured and then he fell asleep.

↮

“Tony what the hell do you mean?!” Natasha demanded in a hushed voice over her bacon and eggs. She turned to Steve, “Is this true?!”

Steve shrugged and continued nibbling on his peanut butter and jelly toast.

“The Winter Soldier came to you room last night?” Thor confirmed. Steve nodded, a small smile on his face.

“Why did I miss it?!” Tony groaned, tinkering with some mechanical device, his bowl of porridge untouched on the side.

“Because you were making out with _Pepper Potts_.” Natasha pulled a face, glancing at the ginger two tables down.

“You gonna eat that?” Thor asked, pointing at Tony’s porridge. In reply Tony elbowed the bowl towards Thor who happily dug in. Steve put his toast down as Natasha continued with her interrogation.

“So he just popped into your room, grabbed his stuff and left?!” she asked. Steve nodded, avoiding eye contact with her. He knew he was a bad liar, but he couldn’t mention the forehead kiss to her, or to anyone. He wanted to keep it a little secret.

“I need to see him again,” he finally spoke up. His friends froze, Thor with a spoon halfway to his mouth.

“How?” he asked.

“You know you can’t!” Natasha added,

“You don’t even know his name,” Tony finished, returning to his mini machine.

“James.” Steve blurted out, and blushed.

“James what?” Tony asked, peering at him suspiciously. Steve gulped,

“James Barnes…” he offered weakly.

Tony whipped out his mini laptop out of nowhere and started typing something on it furiously. Thor peered over his shoulder,

“Got him,” Tony grinned after a second, “James Buchanan Barnes is the son of a famous inventor Bradley Barnes. He has earned many honours as a soldier, even at his young age of nineteen…”

“Can you get his address?” Natasha asked, leaning across the table. Tony flicked through some files as the rest of the orphans began to file out into the hallway and went off to their lessons. Before Tony could get anything up Fury stepped into the room, followed by Phil Coulson.

“You four. Community Service, now.” Fury directed. He pulled Tony’s laptop out of his hands, ignoring the outraged noise the boy made, “Didn’t I confiscate this last week Stark?”

“Yeah you did. So?” Tony asked crossing his arms over his chest. Fury smirked,

“I’ll make sure to change the locks. Now off you go,” he shooed the four teenagers off.

↮

“They could at least change the colour,” Tony complained, wrinkling his nose at the orange jumpsuit as he typed something into his phone. Thor was picking rubbish up with a stick and flicking it into a container as Natasha squatted in the corner in her underwear, changing the writing on her jumpsuit from _Community Payback_ to _Community Blowback_.  Steve was leaning on his picking garbage up stick, staring into the distance, thinking about the way Bucky’s lips felt against his forehead and how they would feel against his lips…

“Fuck they changed the password.” Tony cursed, and then gasped, “Oh hell no, now Fury’s somehow blocked my phone. Oh, so you wanna play? Fuck him man, I can’t do anything until I get my laptop back.” He said, defeated.

“He ain’t gonna give it back to you,” Thor pointed out, plopping on the ground, “Not after that ham incident.”

“That was _one_ time!” Tony groaned.

“So what? You can’t get his address?” Steve asked, worried. Tony shrugged,

“Not unless I get my laptop back.”

“Well we’re getting it back!” Steve said with a new found determination.

↮

“Where is he?” Steve muttered frustrated. Natasha, Thor and he were crouched in his and Tony’s room. The lights were switched off and they were peering out of the window, into the darkness of the night.

“Calm down,” Natasha hissed, “He’s on it!”

Steve huffed and shut up as they watched for any movement. Nothing happened for a few minutes and Steve was getting restless when there was a sudden bright flash, and high pitched noises rang through his skull. Outside they could see Tony, grinning with a pair of protective goggled on top of his messy hair. He watched as enhanced fireworks lit up the night sky, breaking up into inappropriate images. A shimmering blue FUCK YOU MR FURY burst out across the night sky.

“STARK!” Fury roared, running out into the courtyard, followed by a dozen kids and teenagers who laughed and cheered at the display. Tony started sprinting away from the Orphanage, with Fury hot on his heels.

“That’s out cue! Go, go, go!” Natasha hissed, pushing Thor. The three got to their feet and stumbled out of the room and through people hurrying to see what the commotion outside was about.

The three went down a familiar corridor that led to Fury’s office. Thor pulled a hair pin out of his long hair and handed it to Steve, who began twisting and turning it in the lock, until he heard a satisfying click and the doors gave way.

Natasha flipped on the lights and they illuminated the mess that was Fury’s office. There were papers and books stacked on every surface as well as the floor, but the teens weren’t paying attention to it, instead opening cupboards and shelves, looking for Tony’s laptop. Steve shuffled through Fury’s papers like his life depended on it, and something caught his eye.

It was a simple black leaflet with the word ‘Want to make your dreams come true?’ written on it in white. Underneath it was an address. Steve nibbled on his lip.

“Got it!” Natasha yelled. She pulled the laptop off one of the shelves and Thor quickly replaced it with a decoy. Steve grabbed the leaflet impulsively and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Great let’s get out of here!” he prompted and everyone ran out. The door locked automatically behind them and they were back in Tony’s and Steve’s room in less than a minute.

Natasha shoved Tony’s laptop under his pillow, and then pulled Thor into the closet. They’ve done this a million times, and Steve waited patiently until he heard footsteps down the corridor. Tony burst into the room, looking creepily happy, and Fury followed closely behind him.

“Stark you are in big trouble boy, extra four months of community service.”

“Four?!” Tony whined, “What did I doooo?”

“You were in Pepper Pott’s room and you set off fireworks, disrupting lights out. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood and I won’t give you more time for owning explosives. Report for detention tomorrow. Goodnight.” And with a swish of his long cloak, Fury left. Tony turned to Steve,

“Did it work?” he asked, pushing the goggles up from where they were falling over his nose. Steve pulled Tony’s laptop out from under his pillow and smiled. At the same time Thor and Natasha tumbled out from the closet, landing in a heap on the floor. Tony raised an eyebrow,

“Coming out guys? Bout time.”

“Shut up Stark,” Natasha glared at him.

“How was Narnia?” Tony teased. Natasha threw Steve’s bunny slipper at him. The whole group burst into laughter as they piled onto Tony’s bed. Steve passed the laptop to its owner and Tony kissed the lid affectionately,

“My baby,” he cooed. Natasha hit him at the back of his head,

“Hurry up, we don’t have all night.”

Tony stuck his tongue out at her but turned on his laptop, scrolling through his saved pages. He then proceeded to break a few codes and type in weird words and Steve was past trying to understand what Tony was doing.

Then a page with personal information came up, with a few pictures.

“That’s him?!” Natasha asked in disbelief, pointing at a guy with short, black hair, “Damn. He’s cute.”

“No…” Steve shook his head, “That’s him.” He pointed a shaking finger at a picture of Bucky carrying groceries. He wore a black and white flannel over a tank top and loose jeans. His hair was in a short ponytail. Steve exhaled, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

“Wow, he’s cute as well,” Natasha admired, leaning forward.

“Nat he’s taken. Steve here called dibs on him,” Thor grinned at the blonde, who blushed.

“I-I never, no…I um…” Steve stuttered.

“Nat, post – it – note please,” Tony spoke over Steve. Natasha passed him the note and Tony scribbled something down, “That’s the address, don’t lose it.” He passed the note to Steve and then proceeded to double clear his history. He shut down the laptop and yawned,

“Alright off to bed kids,” he muttered, knocking Thor of the bed. Grumbling the tall blonde got up. Natasha kissed Steve on the cheek and ruffled Tony’s hair,

“Okay goodnight idiots,” she said and flounced out of the room after Thor. Steve stared at Bucky’s address.

“What now?” Tony asked after a moment of silence. Steve shrugged and stuffed the note under his pillow.

↮

It took Steve days. Days. Days of worrying and thinking, sleepless nights, staring at his posters of Bucky, two panic attacks and an asthma attack. That’s what it took, and Steve was exhausted. That’s why he did it. It was a free Saturday and the gang was heading to town to do some shopping. Thor wanted to stock up on snacks, Tony ran out of explosives and some weird type of wires, and Natasha wanted to get new high heels. Steve had to buy a new hoodie since his old one had blood on it.

The four made their way to town by bus and did what they did best – messed about. Natasha got into a dance battle with a street performer, Thor graffiti ‘Fuck the Police’ on an alleyway wall and Tony got three girls’ numbers. Steve was out of it and his three best friends realized.

“What’s wrong?” Thor asked when they were in McDonalds.

“Yeah, you’re acting weird,” Tony added, sipping his coffee. Steve shrugged,

“Guys I need to run a quick errand,” he said, suddenly making up his mind. His friends exchanged a look.

“Erm okay, want us to come with you…?” before Thor could finish Steve was on his feet, sprinting through the square. When he was well out of his friends’ eyesight he stopped to catch his breath and took one puff from his asthma pump. He then pulled out the now crumpled leaflet and glanced at the address. He knew where it was – close by.

Steve hurried through the busy streets, pushing past people, muttering ‘sorries’ and ‘excuse me’s’ as he went. When he turned up at the address he was close to collapsing. He was now in the dodgy part of the town, on an estate. The buildings were dirty and water stained, the curtains and blinds shut on every window. A group of drunks stood in the corner, sharing a vodka flask in broad daylight.

Steve moved past them, ignoring their calls and whistling. They were too drunk to make it to him anyway. He glanced at the numbed on the paper and saw a black door with the number on it. 6. He quickly went over to it and knocked.

Nothing happened.

He knocked again, and nobody opened. One of the drunks was getting dangerously close, shouting out ‘hey blondie!,’ so Steve pushed at the door. To his surprise it swung open and the smell of rotten fruit and perfume hit his nose. He coughed and covered his face with his sleeve. A set of steps led down to what he assumed was a basement. With a deep breath Steve stepped inside, letting the doors swing shut behind him, and he was enveloped in darkness.

Steve pressed his palms flat against the narrow walls of the staircase, feeling the rough brick brush his hands. He tried to steady his breath even as he felt panic build up inside his chest. This was a ridiculous idea, why did he ever think this was a good idea?!

Steve’s heart jumped in his throat when his foot accidently missed a step, and he was sent flying down the long staircase. He crashed into the floor with a loud bang and pain exploded through his skinny body.

He was blinded by millions of lights that suddenly flared above his head. Steve pressed his face against the cold, metal floor and squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment he slowly opened them, and got to his feet, ignoring the pain coursing through his body.

He was now in a long, pristine corridor, made of shimmering silver metal. It stretched on for ages, and there was an oval door at the end. The staircase was nothing but a black hole in the wall, full of shadows.

_Come on in._

A voice rang through Steve’s head, and he almost crumbled to his knees again. This all felt surreal and his heart was beating way too fast in his heart, and yet he felt more calm than ever.

He collected himself and walked over to the oval door. He reached out to turn the handle but the door opened by itself, revealing a massive room like an auditorium.

There was a narrow bridge that led to the middle of the room where a woman sat with his back to him, a metal contraption over her head. All around her lights exploded in the air, coloured red and white.

“How lovely to see you Steven Rogers,” the woman whispered, and her voice made Steve shiver in fear and something else.

“W-who are you?” he asked. The woman placed the metal contraption to the side and stood up. She was graceful and lean and taller than Steve, with flowing red curls. She faced Steve and he felt a jolt when he saw her eyes – they were completely black, like a demon, but she was smiling warmly at him.

“My name is Jean Gray, and I am here to help you.”

“Y-you can help me?” Steve asked, twisting his hands together and looking around. Jean didn’t reply, only came up to him and placed a hand under his chin. As soon as their skin touched Steve fell to his knees overwhelmed by memories.

_He saw himself, much younger than he was now, thirteen, holding a gun in a shaking hand, pointing it at someone he knew too well._

_“You won’t do it. You’re too weak, always were!” the man laughed, taking a swig out of a vodka bottle._

_“I won’t do it, if you let us go,” Steve hissed, his voice steady. His free hand came to steady his other one._

_“Fine.” The man spat, “Go. I don’t care about you anyway.” and he threw his bottle, shattering it at Steve’s feet._

_“C’mon,” Steve whispered, “Mamma **come on**!” A woman dashed through the room, there was a bruise under her eye and blood trickled from her nose, “We’re leaving.” Steve said as she clung onto him, sobbing. The man didn’t respond, muttering to himself, “Dad we’re leaving.”_

_Again, the man ignored him. Steve glanced at his mother and then grabbed her hand, lowering his gun. They turned their back onto Steve’s father, and that was a mistake._

_“You can go but she’s not coming.” The man hissed, and lunged at the two, the sharp point of a knife embedding itself in Steve’s mothers back. The boy screamed, and fired, shooting at his father._

_Neither of Steve’s parents lived to see the morning._

Steve gasped and pushed away from Jean, tears welling in his eyes. He still saw the way the light went out of his mother’s eyes, later in the hospital, and felt her hand slump in his.

For months after that he battled with an eating disorder and depression and grew weaker than he already was. And now here he was – hating himself.

“Interesting,” Jean said, “Very, very interesting.”

“What about that is interesting?!” Steve yelled. Jean gave him a sad look,

“You thought that if you were stronger you could’ve saved her. Protected her. You could’ve left without him hurting her. How different would your life be then? No orphanages, no community service, no dreams of being someone you’re not.” Steve looked down in shame, his cheeks colouring – she was right. His mother died because he wasn’t strong enough, “Is that what you want?” Jean asked, “To be a hero? To be strong? To protect innocent lives. To be like The Winter Soldier?”

“Yes.” Steve whispered, without hesitation. Jean nodded,

“Are you willing to give things up for this?” she asked. Steve nodded again. Jean led the boy to the chair she was previously sat on.

“This,” she lifted the contraption, “Will make you what you always wanted. You will be strong and powerful, you will be able to protect people from harm.”

“I’ll do it!” Steve said, barely able to contain his excitement.

“However,” Jean’s voice chilled Steve’s bones, “There is a price, are you prepared to pay it?”

“Yes.”

“You will become a hero, but your memories will be taken away.” Jean whispered into his ear, “The good, the bad. The beautiful, the ugly, all of them. You won’t remember your name, who you were, who you are.”

Steve gulped, feeling his head spin.

“And you will have three weeks to seek out the Winter Soldier, and make him fall in love with you. If you fail you will return to this state of body, and you shall serve me as a slave. Do you agree?”

Steve took a deep breath as a piece of paper appeared in front of him, along with a pen.

“Yes.” He whispered and grabbed the pen, quickly signing his name. He heard Jean Gray’s cruel laugh as the metal contraption was pushed over his head, and he began to forget.

 

_“Mamma! Mamma look!” Steve lisped, his chubby legs carrying him across the field towards the comic stand, “Mamma look! Superheroes!”_

_His mother giggled as she followed him, kneeling down next to him as he stared at the comics in awe._

_“I’m gonna be a superhero one day mamma!” Steve said, puffing his chest out proudly. His mother hugged him,_

_“Of course you will.”_

↮

_Steve came home holding his essay in his hand, the A+ beaming at him from the paper. He skipped into his house and saw his father screaming at his mother, hitting her with his hand. She was crying and bleeding and Steve was confused._

_His father saw Steve and he spat at his wife, turned on his heel and walked out of the house, pushing past his son. Steve’s mother tried to hide her tears and wounds,_

_“How was school, honey?” she asked with a weak smile, wiping the blood off of her face. Steve launched his small body at her, enveloping her in a hug, trying to hold his tears back. He had to be strong – for her._

_“It’s okay mamma.” He whispered, a silent tear rolling down his cheek as his mother sobbed into his shoulder._

_The essay laid forgotten on the floor._

_↮_

_Steve’s 11 th birthday. The boy ran around his backyard with his friends, laughing and shooting each other with water guns. It was the best day ever, his mother laughing in the kitchen as his father came over and kissed her on the cheek.  
They brought out the cake and as Steve blew out the candles he wished for it to always be like this. _

_↮_

_He’d fallen asleep in the hospital chair, curled up in a ball, outside his mother’s room. He wanted desperately to see her, but they wouldn’t let him. He stayed on the chair, crying and soaked in her blood. Her blood. Police tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t respond._

_He was awoken by a nurse, a young, kind one. She sneaked him into his mother’s room, where he saw her pinned to machines and tubes and it made him  sick._

_“A few minutes.” The nurse said, and closed the door. Steve came over and held his mother’s warm hand, smoothed down her hair. She was asleep and couldn’t see him cry silently._

_And then the beeping intensified and Steve’s mother’s eyes snapped open and she looked right at him, smiled and then her hand went slack in his grip and her eyes lost its light and Steve was ushered out by the doctors._

_↮_

_He promised himself he wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. He didn’t cry when he was in court, questioned about his father’s murder, he didn’t cry at his mother’s funeral, he didn’t cry when he found out nobody wanted him. He didn’t cry when his agent dropped him off at the orphanage, he didn’t cry when the scary but kind director showed him round. He didn’t cry when he was introduced to his roommate – Tony. And now he was wrapped up in unfamiliar sheets, in an unfamiliar room and he listened to Tony building something in the corner. He had two friends over – a little fierce girl and a tall blonde boy. They were all whispering quietly and Steve listened to their voices._

_And then he did cry, quietly at first and then more violently as he progressed. He curled up against his pillow, sobbing uncontrollably into the fabric, clutching his hurting heart. He was losing breath fast and the people in the room realized something was wrong. He could hear shouting and things being moved around and then strong but gentle hands were putting him upright, and he couldn’t breathe._

_And then the girls’ hand appeared in his blurry vision and she forced his inhaler into his mouth, pressing the pump a few times. The three friends watched worriedly as Steve slowly caught his breath. The boy eventually sniffled, wiped his tears and muttered ‘sorry.’_

_The girl pulled him into her arms and hugged him tight._

_“It’s going to be okay.” She whispered in her Russian accent. After a moment of hesitation Tony moved to hug both of them. He smelled like chemicals and metal. Thor embraced all three of them with his massive arms, and Steve finally relaxed because he felt safe._

_↮_

_The first time they got community service was for a really stupid reason. It was Thor’s idea to egg Fury’s office but the director really didn’t appreciate it so now they had to clean rubbish for a week._

_It was the most fun Steve has ever had. He was starting to heal, realising that he wasn’t to blame for his mother’s death. He grew close with Natasha and Tony and Steve and they made him feel wanted, included, loved._

_Sometimes he got nightmares. He would dream that he had his father at gunpoint, but when he brought himself to pull the trigger it ended up with his mother in a pool of blood on the floor, and his father standing over him, drinking and saying ‘you’re too weak.’_

_He woke up screaming or crying, and Tony would look up from whatever he was building and hug him and show him his designs to distract him, and sometimes they’d call Natasha and Thor over using their walkie – talkies and they’d watch an illegally downloaded movie on Tony’s mini laptop until they chased Steve’s chills away._

_↮_

_The first time Steve heard about the Winter Soldier was in a newspaper – a young man saved a woman out of a burning building and delivered the arsonist to the Police’s doorstep._

_Steve was fourteen and a half. And The Winter Soldier became his inspiration, his guidance. Steve got posters of him, newspaper clippings. He drove himself past his limits to become more strong, more fit, more able so he could be like the Soldier. It only ever ended with the need for air and Natasha’s hand, passing him his pump._

_↮_

_The last memory was of Bucky. Not the night that Bucky almost bled out, and scared Steve half to death. The night that Bucky came to get his suit back. The way his eyes lingered on Steve, the way he smiled. The feel of his lips on his forehead, the grey – blue of his eyes._

_And just like that the memories were gone._

_↮_

Nobody woke up with a killer headache, lying on the cold concrete. He groaned and rolled to his side, feeling all his bones and muscles ache. He tried to stand up but his body felt weird and unfamiliar and uncoordinated. He ended up face planting on the floor.

“You alright mate?” a man asked, stumbling over to him. He had a bottle of whiskey in one hand.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Nobody mumbled and tried to get up, failing miserably, “Could you possibly help me?” He asked. The man nodded, put his bottle down and reached his hand down to him, pulling him to his feet. He staggered and tried to regain his balance, and managed to stay upright.

“Well you’re pretty wasted, big guy,” The man observed, he offered him the whiskey but Nobody waved him off.

“I’m fine, thanks,” His voice felt hoarse, but he stumbled away from the man. Where was he? Who was he? Dark buildings surrounded him and he wore loose jeans and a clean, crisp white shirt. These weren’t his – or were they? He couldn’t remember anything. Groaning He reached into the pockets of his trousers and pulled out a few things – a small, silver key, a phone that told him that his battery was dead, a post it note with an address scribbled on it, an asthma pump and a black piece of paper. On the paper it said – your dream came true, in white writing.

God, how long was he out? Nobody put all the things back into his pocket and tried to get his bearings. He figured that his best shot was the address. He peered at it and re – read it in his head. He had no idea where it was. He turned around and slowly walked back to the drunk man, who was peering at his now empty bottle.

“E-excuse me,” Nobody mumbled, getting the guys’ attention.

“Big guy!” The drunk exclaimed happily, Nobody winced.

“Ah, yes,” He said, “Could you help me find this address?”

The drunk peered at it and then nodded,

“It’s not far from here, twenty minutes’ walk on foot, you go straight, left then take another left, follow this road…” the drunk man rambled, and He was surprised that Nobody’s mind remembered the directions perfectly.

“Thank you!” He gushed and walked off, the drunk man lifting his hand in a salute.

It was a dark night, but Nobody could see perfectly, he saw a rat run into some bushes, could hear drunken giggling. He picked up his speed and started jogging, and then eventually he was sprinting. Faster than humanly possible – and he wasn’t getting tired. That was a sensation new to Nobody, he wondered why he needed the asthma pump.

His brain automatically led him to the address on the paper and in good ten minutes, Nobody arrived at the apartment complex. It was very fancy, with turning doors and a porter guiding the entrance. He glanced at the number on his paper, the top floor.

He hesitantly walked towards the doors, and the porter eyed Nobody suspiciously, but he wasn’t stopped. Acting like he knew where he was going, Nobody climbed up the stairs, quickly and swiftly. He observed the luxurious tapestry on the walls and the large windows that looked out onto the shimmering city. He felt his heart in his throat – what would he find in the apartment. A girlfriend? His parents? He had no idea.

Finally, Nobody stood in front of the large double doors that led to the apartment he had to get to. On the door it said ‘Room 34 B – James Barnes, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton & Samuel Wilson. He hesitated, reading over the names, but none of them triggered anything in him.

He gathered his courage and raised his fist knocking on the door. Nothing happened. He raised his hand to knock again, but the door swung open before he could.

A man stood in front of Nobody, he had brown hair that was dripping water onto the carpet, and there was a towel wrapped around his waist. Nobody ogled the man’s abs and then quickly collected himself, his gaze snapping up to the man’s grey – blue eyes. The man raised an eyebrow,

“How can I help?” He asked.

“I-erm, I…um,” Nobody stuttered. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea what to say. So he decided to just tell the truth, “I woke up a few minutes ago with no memory of who I am or where I was and this,” he raised the post – it note, “was the only thing in my pocket. So…um, I kind of thought you might know me?” He finished meekly.

“I’ve never seen you before,” The man said apologetically, “But you definitely seem familiar.”

“Oh…well…” Nobody swayed on his feet, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“Are…Are you okay?” The man asked, concern clear on his face.

“Fine…” Nobody mumbled, and then fell onto the carpet.

↮

“Oh shit.” Bucky swore. Bruce walked towards the door,

“What is it?” he glanced over Bucky’s shoulder, and his eyes widened, “Bucks, why is there a dead guy outside our door?”

“He’s not dead,” Bucky huffed, crouching down and checking the guys pulse, “He’s just passed out. Come on help me.”

Bruce got the idea and grabbed the man under one arm as Bucky took the other,

“He’s really heavy,” Bruce wheezed as they began to pull him into their apartment.

“I know, have you seen all that muscle, _damn_ ,” Bucky agreed. The two men dumped the guy onto their couch and stared at him for a few minutes.

“What the hell do we do with him now?” Bruce asked.

“What the fuck is this?” Clint demanded, racing down the stairs, “Who the fuck is he?!” Clint gestured at the man with his bow.

“I don’t know we found him outside,” Bucky explained, running a hand down his face. He suddenly felt really tired. He observed the guy; his soft blonde hair that fell over his forehead, his long eyelashes that brushed his cheeks, the bow of his lips. He reminded Bucky of someone.

“Well I’m going to sleep!” Clint said after a long moment of silence.

“ _Clint_!” Bruce sighed exasperatedly, “C’mon man, we’ve got a mission!”

“I can watch over him!” Sam volunteered, coming out of the kitchen with a bowl of instant ramen, “You guys go.”

“You sure?” Bucky asked. The man nodded happily, Bucky smiled at him gratefully and brushed the hair off the guy’s forehead.

“Don’t get too attached Buck,” Bruce said.

↮

When Nobody woke up, he was more confused than ever. He remembered speaking to a man, and then…well, that’s about it. He couldn’t help a groan that escaped him at the pounding in his head.

“Good morning mysterious stranger,” A voice called. Nobody sat up quickly and looked around wildly. A lithe man was sitting on a chair opposite the couch he laid on. He was eating cornflakes straight out of the box.

“What time is it?” Nobody asked, running a hand down his face. The man glanced at his phone screen.

“2:03 am.” He said, way too cheerfully, “I’m Sam by the way. And who are you?”

“I…um,” Nobody sat up, “I can’t remember.”

“Ah,” Sam said casually, “Thought that could be the case. Then what brings you here stranger?”

“I don’t know!” He muttered, frustrated. Why couldn’t he remember anything?!

“Calm down princess,” Another man, or more of a boy, walked into the room in his pyjamas.

“That’s Clint,” Sam rolled his eyes, “Don’t mind him.”

“Where’s the one with the long hair?” Nobody asked,

“Oh Bucky?” Sam blinked at him, and something sparked in his brain at the mention of the name, but it was gone as soon as it appeared, “He’s on a mission.”

“Mission?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’s The Winter Soldier,” Sam said as if it explained anything.

Winter Soldier – another phrase that sparked something in his memory.

“SAM!” Clint yelled, “What the hell man?! Want to announce it on national television maybe?!”

“Calm down Clint,” Sam said calmly, ignoring the fuming boy, “This dude might as well know. Besides, he could be useful. Look at all that muscle.”

Clint wrinkled his nose and threw a towel at Nobody,

“Take a shower. You reek.”

He looked at him quizzically and shrugged,

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asked. Sam showed him the way,

“Don’t use up all the warm water!” Clint practically screamed from the kitchen. Sam rolled his eyes and gave Nobody a gentle push into the bathroom.

The inside was pristine, white and baby blue tiles lined the walls and four toothbrushes sat in a cup, all in different colours. The windowsill was littered with different shampoos and body washes and conditioners and shaving creams and whatnot. A pair of dirty sweats lay in a heap by the sink and one, lone fluffy sock sat by the toilet.

Nobody sighed in frustration and quickly stripped. He turned and caught sight of himself in the mirror.

You’d probably never **not** known your body. You know where you’ve got curves, where you’re flat, you know your measurement and the length of your hair. You know your height and your muscles. Well, Nobody didn’t.

He stared at himself in the mirror. His hair and eyes – they seemed familiar. Actually the structure of his face was fine. It was his body. It was bulked up, like he spent hours exercising. He tentatively touched his chest, and it was hard as rock.

He was strong, but it was as if his organism wasn’t used to it. And then there was the question of the asthma pump – he could run for a long time, why did he need it then? And how did he end up not remembering anything.

Nobody grabbed a bottle of body wash and sniffed it. He made a face, nope, too strong. He grabbed another bottle but it smelled like cinnamon so he put it back. Who makes cinnamon smelling body washes!?

Eventually he found something that suited him, a nice but subtle smell that made him feel warm, and maybe a little bit like himself, whoever he was.

He stepped into the shower and turned the water on. He scrubbed himself with the body wash, thinking of washing everything away. If all he could get were these annoying triggers that meant nothing, he might as well have a new start. Bucky, the Winter Soldier. What did it mean?

After he couldn’t stand it anymore and his fingertips were wrinkled, Nobody finally stepped out. He dried himself off quickly, and tried to avoid the mirror.

And then the door burst open and He found himself naked, face to face with Bucky. The other man was covered in sweat and grime, and he flushed when he saw Nobody, unable to keep his eyes from wandering down the length of His body.

“Ah! I’m sorry!” Bucky yelled, dropped a pile of clothes at Nobody’s feet and turned on his heel, slamming the door shut, leaving a blushing Nobody behind.

Nobody locked the door and leaned down and inspected the clothes. He pulled on the simple button down white shirt that was left for him, and a pair of grey sweats alongside it. There was even a pair of fluffy socks laid out for him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

When Nobody had finished, he stepped outside cautiously. The corridor was dark, light and voices coming from the living room.

“What should we do with him?”

“Well, we can’t kick him out can we?”

“Psshh, yeah we can. What are we? Babysitters?!”

“Be nice, Clint.”

“I’m sorry but did you see that body?”

“ _Buckyyy_.”

“We could have him on the team!”

“He has a family somewhere, searching for him…”

Nobody felt bad for eavesdropping, so he shyly stepped out from the shadowy corridor into the living room. The men present all fell silent as they stared at him. Nobody wrung his hands out nervously,

“I assume you heard that,” Bruce said apologetically. He shrugged.

“So what do you want to do?” Sam asked calmly. Nobody looked unsure as he eyed the men. Bucky looked hopeful and it made something inside him warm. Bruce and Sam both looked neutral, and open to suggestions. Clint was glaring but Nobody didn’t pay much attention to him. In all honesty he had nowhere to go. All he had was this bloody address, and if he left now…well, God knows what would happen to him.

“I-I think I’d like to stay?” Nobody asked nervously. Bucky whooped and Sam cracked a smile.

“Thanks great,” Bruce placed a reassuring hand on his arm, “you can join our team.”

“Team?” Steve asked, brow furrowing.

“We’re like… superheroes,” Clint explained, looking bored, “You know – we save the city, deliver the bad guys to prison and so on.”

Nobody’s eyes widened as he stared at the group, something nudged him in his brain but he couldn’t figure out what. Nobody just knew that the idea of superheroes excited him.

“I’m in.” he said, smiling.

“Awesome, we’ll see what you can do tomorrow.” Sam clapped his hands, “For now we should probably go to sleep, it’s gonna be a big day tomorrow.”

“Great night guys.” Clint waved his hand and disappeared into a room as quickly as he could.

“I’ll…take the couch then?” Steve offered.

“ _No!_ ” Bucky, Sam and Bruce exclaimed at the same time.

“It’s like sleeping on a pile of bricks. I don’t wish it on anyone, even Hydra.”

“Who’s Hydra?” He asked.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky waved him off, “do we have a mattress somewhere?”

“We did…” Bruce nibbled on his lip, “I think Wanda and Pietro nicked it the last time they stayed over.”

“Who’s Wanda and Pietro?” He asked.

“These two other heroes,” Bucky explained, “They go by Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch now, they’re old friends.”

“Back to the bedding matter…,” Bruce prompted,

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Sam offered. Lightning fast, the three heroes hit their fists on the flat of their palms, counting to three under their breaths. In seconds Bruce and Sam were smirking, both holding up fists, and Bucky…was also grinning, although he had scissors.

“Looks like you’ll be sleeping in Buck’s bed for now,” Sam smirked.

“Okay.” Nobody shrugged, tugging the sleeves of his shirt over his hands. Bucky led him to his room as Bruce and Sam disappeared behind doors. He entered Bucky’s room and looked around. The walls were filled with band posters and a few pictures were taped to the wallpaper – mainly Bucky and his friends, a few of his family. The rest of the room was a mess, clothes strewn all over the floor, leftover plates on different surfaces.

“Sorry it’s a mess.” Bucky looked embarrassed as he picked a pair of boxes off of the floor, bunching it up in his hands.

“It’s okay,” Nobody smiled shyly, “Thanks for letting me sleep here.”

Bucky stared at him for two seconds and then cleared his throat, looking away and blushing.

“Yeah, well, no problem.” The hero muttered. Nobody couldn’t help from grinning, and then he saw something that caught his eye. Taped to a computer was a messily cut out photo, as if it was from a newspaper. The boy in it was looking confused, eyes wide. His hair was all over the place and he was wearing a hideous orange jumpsuit. Something about him tugged at something inside him.

“Who’s…Who’s this?” He asked. Bucky had been pulling out spare covers and pillows.

“Who?” The hero glanced up and his face darkened when he saw Nobody pointing at a picture, “Oh. That’s Steven Rogers.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Nobody asked, suddenly nervous. Bucky shook his head, a bit sadly,

“No. He saved my life and we’ve been trying to find him so I could…I don’t know, repay him? We found the Orphanage he was at, but apparently he’s gone missing.” Buck sounded worried and terrified, and it made him despise the boy from the picture a little bit. It seemed as if Bucky didn’t know him at all, and yet the sickly blonde could get so much emotion out of him.

“Yeah, well I hope you find him.” He muttered. Bucky smiled,

“Thanks.”

After a few minutes of figuring stuff out, Nobody took the side of the wall and Bucky laid down on the other side. Nobody could feel the heat coming off the superhero, laying so close, and his heart was beating too fast in his chest. He had no idea how he was meant to fall asleep like this. The atmosphere in the room was suffocating, the tension clear. He could tell that Bucky was uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry.” Nobody said to break the silence. Bucky turned, dipping the mattress, to face the stranger.

“What for?” he asked frowning. He shrugged,

“For causing you trouble and forcing you to share your bed with me…,” Nobody looked away, “For everything, really.”  
“Hey.” Bucky’s eyes softened and he reached out towards him. Then he caught himself and lowered his hand, “Don’t be sorry. You’re no trouble at all, and I don’t mind sharing the bed.”

Nobody looked up at Bucky.

“I just…” His voice died in His throat, “I just can’t remember anything.”

“Don’t worry.” Bucky smiled, “You’ll figure it out. And I’ll help you.”

“Thanks Bucky.”

↮

“Alright, up and at ‘em!” Nobody was shaken away at an ungodly hour. Bucky was leaning over him, his long hair pulled back, dressed in shorts and a hoodie. He looked at him confused,

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Five thirty in the morning, why?” Bucky asked, a bright smile on his face.

“With all due respect,” Nobody buried his face in His pillow, “fuck off.”

“Aw c’mon man.” Bucky pulled the covers off of him, and Nobody’s reflexes kicked in. He curled up in a ball to shield himself from the freezing air, although his body wasn’t cold. Bucky poked him in the forehead, “Come on big guy, it’s time for training!”

“Noooo…” Nobody whined. Bucky tried to tug the stranger off the bed,

“Come on get up!” the hero complained. With an unhappy sigh, Nobody sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.

“I hate you.” He grumbled, Bucky pouted.

↮

“Okay, strength first.” Bruce said, shivering in his many layers of clothes as they stood in the park, shrouded by mist.

“So what do you want me to do?” Nobody asked.

“I don’t know,” Bruce shrugged, “throw something.”

“Can I throw Bucky?” Nobody asked. The man laughed,

“I’d like to see you try.”

Without hesitation Nobody walked up to Bucky, grabbed him around his waist, and easily hauled him over his shoulder. Bucky let out a very manly squeak as Nobody effortlessly held the hero up. Everyone’s jaws dropped open.

“Damn.” Clint whistled.

“Put me down you brute!” Bucky yelled. Nobody smirked and dropped Bucky on his ass in the wet grass. The hero grumbled as he got to his feet.

“Well, strength ain’t a problem then,” Sam said with an approving nod, “How bout speed, big guy? Wanna race?”

“Sure.” Nobody was feeling confident as he felt adrenaline pulse through his veins. This body was different and new but it had its  purpose. He stood with Sam on the grass, Sam kneeling in the grass to give himself a better start. Clint counted to three and the two took off. Twelve seconds later Nobody had run the entire length of the park.

“Woah.” Bucky breathed.

“That’s insane.” Clint admitted, and started clapping. Nobody smiled sheepishly, not even out of breath, as Sam returned, breathing hard.

“So he’s like a super soldier.”

“Yeah…” Bruce nodded, “He’s like a Captain.”

“Captain America,” Bucky supplied.

“See, now you’ve got a name.” Clint grinned.

↮

Natasha found Tony curled up on his bed, head in his hands. The girl took a deep breath and sat down next to her friend, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“They’ll find him,” Natasha said. Tony shook his head desperately, sitting up,

“He’s missing Nat. It’s been almost three weeks. What if he’s dead?” the boy asked. Natasha grabbed his face and forced him to look at her, her expression stubborn.

“Listen to me Stark, he’s not dead. He’s fine, he’s just…” she faltered and let go of Tony’s face, “…lost.”

Just then Tony barged into the room and threw a newspaper at his two friends,

“There’s another report.” Natasha gave Thor a quizzical look and then opened the paper. On the front page there was a blurry picture of several men, in the midst of a battle. The redhead read aloud,

 _“Captain America strikes again! Since the newest member joined the Avengers they’ve stopped more villains than ever! The Winter Solider, Hulk, Hawkeye and Falcon have always been our heroes, but who is the new addition? Captain America seems to have appeared out of thin air, on his way to save the world.”_ Natasha snorted humourlessly, “This is such bullshit.” She flipped through the newspaper to the back pages. There was a grainy, black and white picture of Steve at the back. _Steven Rogers, 17, from the Local Orphanage has still not been found. The Police is continuing the case, “_ That’s it?!” Natasha yelled.

“They pay more attention to this new hero than to Steve,” Tony grumbled. Thor collapsed on the bed, next to his friends.

“What do we do now?” he asked, defeated.

“We find that bloody address,” Tony said, grabbing his laptop. Immediately multiple screens popped up, “That’s where he went. I’m sure of it. This is our last shot.”

Natasha and Thor leaned towards the screen, and watched in confusion as Tony zoomed through different pages, breaking codes and passwords. Eventually a plain black screen popped up, with the address written in Chinese.

“God bless my Asian friends,” Tony grinned, going on some translating page and getting the address down. The three friends stared at the pink post it note that now sat innocently in Tony’s lap.

“He has to be there.” Natasha whispered, squeezing Tony’s and Thor’s hands, “He has to be.”

“Alright, what are we waiting for then?” Thor asked, jumping up and pulling Natasha up with him.

“What? You want to go now?” The girl asked.

“He’s been gone long enough,” Thor rumbled. Lightning flashed outside as if to prove his point, “It’s time to bring him home.”

↮

“Good work today, Cap.” Sam grinned, putting a friendly arm around Captain America.

“Thanks,” He beamed as the other superheroes filed into the apartment, “I think I’ll hit the shower.”

Captain America walked to his room, which was quite small as it used to be the laundry cupboard (Bruce promised they’ll find him something better soon), and grabbed a clean towel, heading for the shower. He quickly stripped and stepped under the hot stream of water, feeling it work wonders on his tense muscles. Cap sighed quietly and leaned his forehead against the cold tiles of the shower wall. He was so tired.

None of his memories came back. None of them. As far as he could see nobody was looking for him, nobody was missing. Except that Steve boy. Cap ground his teeth together, thinking about how Bucky stayed up late ever night, surfing the internet for any news of where the kid could be. _Why is he so interested in him?_ Cap thought to himself angrily. He hated to admit it but he started to develop…he didn’t know what to call it. Feelings? For Bucky. It seemed right, to call it that. Every time the other hero was around him, Cap’s stomach would do a weird flip and his heart would skip a beat. It was so confusing, especially when Bucky was so interested in Steve that he didn’t pay Cap any attention. Captain America hated all of it. He also felt like his time was running out for him, and he didn’t know why. He woke up one night to find his hands covered in black marker, and the date over a week from now circled. It was like a deadline, but Cap didn’t know what for. He just knew that on that day he was going to lose everything he built up during these three weeks. He was going to have to leave Bruce and Clint and Sam and Bucky…

Captain America took a shaky breath, feeling tears gather in his eyes. He just wanted to remember. Angrily, he washed himself and shut off the water. He wrapped a towel around his waist, and glanced at himself in the mirror. A stranger looked back at him, eyes rimmed with red. Cap watched as a tear rolled down the strangers face.

“Cap!” It was Bucky, knocking on the door, “How long are you gonna be?”

Captain America cleared his throat,

“J-Just a minute.” He yelled, and his voice cracking. He cursed himself for showing weakness. There was a silence at the other side of the door and for a second Cap thought that Bucky had left, but he was wrong.

“Cap…” Bucky said quietly, hesitantly, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Captain America said to his reflection, and then laughed, a little hysterically, “I’m perfectly fine.” The last word ended with a sob.

“Cap. Open the door.” Bucky said. Captain America did as he was told, and flipped the lock. Bucky stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. He took in the sight of the other boy, now crying helplessly.

“Oh Cap.” Bucky murmured, pulling the hero into his arms. Captain America clung to him desperately, sobbing into his shoulder. Bucky struggled under his weight, trying to comfort the man, “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“N-No I’m not…” Captain America whispered helplessly, “I…I can’t r-remember anything.”

“You don’t have to remember.” Bucky said, “You can make new memories. With us…with me.”

“But you’ll never feel the same way.” Captain America said so quietly, Bucky almost didn’t catch it.

“What-”

The doorbell rang, and Captain America pulled away from Bucky, hastily wiping his eyes.

“You…um…you should probably answer that,” He said, blushing, and grabbing his t-shirt. Bucky nodded and walked to the door, opening it. Outside stood three teenagers, a girl and two boys and…wait a minute.

“I know you.” Bucky blurted. The girl raised an eyebrow, the two boys crossing their arms on either side of her, like bouncers.

“Well I don’t know you.” The girl said, narrowing her eyes, studying him.

“Who are you?” Bucky asked, blocking the door.

“That’s none of your business,” the smaller boy next to her snapped,

“We’re looking for a friend.” The boy with the blonde hair explained.

“Name?” Bucky asked, heart thumping loudly, although he knew what they would say.

“Steven Rogers.” The girl said, and her voice faltered. For a second there was pain in her eyes, and then her face turned expressionless again.

“Don’t know him. He’s not here.” Bucky said, throat tight.

The two boys exchanged a desperate look, and Bucky suddenly felt sorry for them. They were only kids, looking for a missing friend.

“Do you want to come in?” the hero asked. The girl shrugged,

“Yeah, sure. Why not.” She said, defeated. Bucky led them into the living room and the three collapsed onto the couches.

“I’m Tony,” the smaller boy introduced himself, “This is Thor and Natasha.”

“We know,” Thor said, “You’re the Winter Soldier.” Bucky tensed, wondering where the rest of the Avengers were.

“How do you know?” He asked, arms flexing.

“Steve. He…he told us about you.”

“More like we forced him to.” Tony interrupted. Natasha glared at him,

“He wanted to find you because he has this massive crush on you…” Thor started.

“ _Thor_!” Natasha and Tony yelled. Something warm bloomed in Bucky’s heart,

“He liked me?” he asked breathlessly.

“He _likes_ you,” Natasha said, expression hardening, “Don’t talk about him in past tense.”

“Anyway,” Tony continued, “Because I’m amazing, I found your address online. Then we went into the city and everything was okay, we were eating McDonald’s like normal teenagers and Steve said he had to sort something out. He never came back.”

“So we obviously thought he might be here,” Thor finished lamely. Bucky gave looked at them, a pained expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “he’s not here.”

Natasha got to her feet, eyes glistening with tears.

“Thanks for your help,” she said, “we’ll go look somewhere else.”

“Nat.” Tony said, he sounded _so_ tired.

“No Tony.” Natasha cut him off harshly, “We’re going to go look for him. He’s fine, he’s not dead. He can’t be. I won’t accept that he’s dead,” the girl was clearly panicking now, “He’s lost or…or I don’t know, in a hospital somewhere, you know how bad his asthma gets. Maybe, m-maybe something happened.” Tony got up, softly saying the girls name. He reached towards her but she jerked away, “Goddammit Tony!” she yelled, “Why are you acting like he’s dead? He’s not! He’s fine! He’s fine! I’ll find him, I promised to take care of him, he’s my best friend I’m not going to lose him!” Tony grabbed Natasha and pulled her into his arms. She broke down, sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

“We’re going to go now,” Thor said, smiling apologetically at Bucky, “Sorry for the trouble.”

“What’s all this ruckus?” Captain America asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Don’t worry.” Bucky muttered, but Natasha’s eyes were already on the blonde.

“You!” she yelled, “You! You came out of nowhere. You appeared when Steve disappeared!” she took a step towards Captain America, who backed away even though Natasha was much smaller than him, as if it was an instinct, “You know something! Where is he?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Captain America lifted his hands up, in surrender. Natasha lunged at him and grabbed his shirt in her hand, yanking him forward with a surge of strength. She raised a fist to punch him, and as Captain America flinched and Bucky yelled ‘Stop!,’ she froze.

“Steve?” she asked softly. Captain America blinked at her,

“Um…no?” he offered. She let go of him and stepped back, staring at him with wide eyes. He hands flew to her mouth and she shook her head,

“It’s you. It’s you.” She was muttering. Tony came to stand beside her,

“Nat, this isn’t Steve,” he said, pulling her away.

“But it is!” Natasha fought Tony off, “Look at him! It’s him just in a different body!”

“ _Natasha_.” Tony hissed, “Enough.”

“Tony! Just listen! He appeared out of nowhere, same time as Steve disappeared, he has his fucking _face_!” Natasha turned to Captain America, staring at him pleadingly, “Steve, please!”

“I can’t remember anything.” Captain America whispered, “I can’t remember anything…”

Tony finally let go of Natasha and she stood there, breathing hard. Thor and Bucky watched the events unfold, confused. Clint, Bruce and Sam came inside, holding grocery bags. Bruce dropped his bags,

“Who’s that?” he asked, staring right at Natasha.

“They’re here about Steve,” Bucky said, mouth dry, “they think Cap could be him.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Clint snorted.

Everyone looked at Captain America.

“I-I don’t _know_.” He whispered. Bucky was by him in seconds, a comforting hand on his shoulder,

“It’s alright, Cap.” He said, “Just _try_ to remember.”

Captain America focused on the pieces of familiarity that he remembered, and tried to remember something, anything…

_A black door with a number on it – 6._

His eyes widened,

“I don’t have any answers,” he said, “but I know who might.”

↮

Bucky, Captain America, Bruce, Clint, Sam, Natasha, Thor and Tony all stood in front of the black door. Somehow Cap figured out where he woke up and lead the group there. Now they all stood, unsure.

“So do we…knock?” Sam asked. Captain America shook his head,

“Follow me.” He said, and pushed the door open. The Captain descended down a familiar, narrow staircase, and somehow it was harder to fit than the last time. He wondered why. This place – it felt familiar. The smell of rotten fruit and perfume tingling his senses.

“Ew I just touched something gross.” Tony said somewhere behind him. Captain America ignored him as he now stood in a pristine corridor. He walked to the door at the end and it swung open in front of him. The Avengers filed into the empty room, eyes wide with awe. The chair at the end of the bridge was empty.

The metal door swung closed behind them just as Sam stepped inside.

“What the hell is this place?” Bruce asked no one in particular. Then a voice rang out,

 _“_ Steven Rogers. Came to admit defeat a day early?”

“What the-” Bucky started, and then a woman appeared in front of them. Her eyes were all black.

“And you brought friends,” she cocked her head to the side, studying the Avengers with a smile.

“Who are you?” Bucky asked, stepping in front of Captain America protectively,

“I’m Jean Gray.” The woman introduced herself, “and I am a wish giver.”

“What did you do to Steve?” Thor rumbled. Jean Gray laughed,

“I only gave him what he wanted,” she said, looking at Captain America, “he wanted to be strong and I made him strong. For a price of course. His memories.”

“Well I want them back.” Captain America demanded, “you can take the strength.” Jean Gray tutted,

“That’s not how it works, Steve.” Jean smirked, “and you didn’t hold up your end of the deal.”

“I can’t even remember what I was meant to do.” Cap said, “so please, just give me my memories back.”

“I don’t like an audience.” Jean Gray said, and with a flick of her hand, the Avengers crumpled to the ground. All except Bucky.

“No!” Captain America shouted.

“Calm down,” Jean Gray rolled her eyes, “they’re just sleeping.”

“Why are you doing this?!” Bucky asked. Jean Gray regarded him coldly.

“My magic didn’t work on you. Hmm, well never mind.” She waved a hand in the air, “now Steve, we will just wait until the sun rises and then you will be my slave forever.”

Captain America looked at Bucky helplessly,

“Can’t you at least tell me what I signed up for?”

“I can show you,” Jean said. She clicked her fingers and a slight breeze blew. Jean turned to the staircase, and Captain America watched as Steve walked down hesitantly. The memory was slightly hazy, but Captain America could see Steve clearly as he walked inside Jean’s lair.

“Steve.” Bucky breathed and reached towards the boy. His hand passed through the memory.

“How lovely to see you, Steven Rogers,” Jean Gray said, ignoring Captain America and Bucky.

“W-who are you?” Steve asked nervously, glancing around. The two men watched at the memory of Steve and Jean Gray spoke, how the witch taunted him, told him he wasn’t good enough, that he couldn’t save his mother. The memory sparked something inside Captain America and he listened to Jean say the terms of their agreement.

“You will become a hero, but your memories will be taken away. The good, the bad. The beautiful, the ugly, all of them. You won’t remember your name, who you were, who you are. And you will have three weeks to seek out the Winter Soldier, and make him fall in love with you. If you fail you will return to this state of body, and you shall serve me as a slave. Do you agree?”

Captain America wanted to scream at Steve – to tell him to say no, that this wasn’t the right choice. He wanted to tell him how lonely he’d feel, how confused. He wanted to tell him to turn back and return to his friends. But it was too late.

“Yes.” Steve whispered and Captain America watched in horror as Steve’s tiny body grew into…him. Jean Gray cackled, the scene disappeared and Captain America’s memories flooded back.

↮

_He stood at a window in a destroyed house, his tiny hands clutching the windowsill._

_“Steve you alright?” Natasha asked, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. She was his best friend, she was always there for him. How could he have forgotten?_

_“I’m fine Nat,” He lied._

↮

_It was cold outside, and dark. He was crouched next to a man on the floor. The man was pale and bleeding._

_“I-um…James…” Steve started._

_“Bucky. Call me Bucky.”_

↮

_He was in a familiar room, with two messy, unmade beds._

_“You have to go!” Steve whispered to Bucky, hearing noises down the corridor._

_“Thanks,” Bucky said. Then he pulled Steve to him and quickly placed a kiss on his forehead._

↮

Steve’s eyes fluttered opened and he saw Bucky’s worried face above him. The hero cracked a smile,

“Oh thank God, I thought you wouldn’t wake up.” Bucky said. Steve realized his head was in Bucky’s lap.

“I remembered.” He whispered. Bucky grinned and brushed some of Steve’s hair out of his face.

“That’s good.”

“How long do we have left?” Steve asked, sitting up. His muscular arms felt heavy and useless now.

“Half an hour until sunrise.” Bucky said quietly. Jean Gray was walking around, humming to herself and preparing some potions and mixtures.

“What then?” Steve asked.

“She said that they all wake up,” Bucky pointed to their sleeping friends, “and we get teleported outside. With no memory of you.”

Steve smiled sadly,

“Maybe that’s better.” He said, “At least you won’t miss me.”

“No. I don’t want to forget you.” Bucky said. Steve opened his mouth to say something but then Jean Gray appeared in front of him.

“Let’s get you all ready, Steven,” she said, smiling creepily, “say goodbye to your friend here.”

The two boys stood up and Bucky stepped in front of Steve.

“You’re not gonna take him.” He sounded so confident, like he actually believed he could keep Steve safe from this witch.

“Don’t try me, _boy_.” Jean Gray hissed, using her magic she pulled Steve towards her. “It’s too late for that now.”

“No!” Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand, and pulled him back, “You can’t take him away from me! You _can’t_.” He said desperately, “I need him. You can’t take him, I won’t let you. He’s mine now and I’ll take care of him so you can find yourself someone else to be your slave, because he’s staying with me!”

“Your words mean nothing,” Jean Gray spat, “when the sun rises he will be bound to me and you will forget all about him.”

Steve suddenly wrapped his arms around Bucky, pulling him into a hug.

“It’s okay, Buck,” he whispered, “just let me go. It’ll be fine.”

“N-no…” Bucky held onto Steve, “I can’t.”

“You have to.”

“Let the boy go,” Jean Gray commanded. Bucky felt Steve being ripped away from him. The boy stood next to the witch, his eyes filled with despair, “A few minutes and it’ll all be over, and you will forget all about this.”

“You can’t!” Bucky yelled, “ _I love him_!”

Steve’s and Jean’s eyes widened.

“L-Liar.” Jean said, a crack appearing on her porcelain skin, “you’re lying.”

“No.” Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s, “I’m not lying. I love you.”

Steve smiled suddenly, and his smile lit up the room.  

“I love you too.”

“NO!” Jean screamed, but she couldn’t do anything. Steve ran across the to Bucky, just as the Avengers woke. The whole room started to shake, stones and bricks raining from the ceiling.

“What the hell?” Thor yelled.

“Bruce, transform!” Clint told Bruce. The man nodded and his body expanded, turning green. He grabbed Bucky and Steve with one massive hand, and covered all the Avengers with his body. Jean Gray screamed as he lair crumbled around them. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, holding onto Steve. The other boy buried his face in Bucky’s shoulder.

Everything went dark as there was a roar and the room fell. Bruce rumbled, but continued shielding his friends. Finally everything stilled and the man stepped back, shrinking back to his normal size. The air was filled with dust and everyone started coughing. Bucky realized that Steve was no longer in his arms.

“Steve?!” he asked, panicking.

“Right here.” Steve said standing up, and brushing dust off his shirt. He was tiny again, reaching Bucky’s shoulder. A smile blossomed on Bucky’s face but then Steve started coughing desperately, doubling over.

“Steve! Steve!” Bucky grabbed the boy, who was struggling for breath.

“His asthma!” Natasha yelled. She dug in her backpack and brought out an inhaler, “A spare one.” She said, crouching down next to Bucky and Steve. She pushed the device into Steve’s mouth with practiced moves, and then pressed the pump three times. Bucky watched with concern as Steve’s tiny chest contracted. When Natasha pulled the inhaler away, he was breathing by himself again.

“What the hell happened?” Natasha asked, looking up at the sky, which was turning from navy to grey as the first of the sun peeked from between the houses.

Bucky ignored her question, gathered Steve up in his arms and hugged him tight,

“God you scared me.” He whispered to the boy. Natasha got up and herded the rest of the Avengers away to give Bucky and Steve some space.

“I’m sorry,” Steve muttered, and then coughed once. He winced, “Old body. Great.”

Bucky laughed and stood up, pulling Steve up easily. Steve smiled shyly,

“Well I like you like this,” Bucky said, stepping closer to the boy. He reached down and intertwined his hands with Steve’s. The smaller boy looked down and blushed. Bucky tugged him closer, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. The blonde reached up and interlocked his arms around Bucky’s neck. They pressed their foreheads together, and stared at each other for a minute.

“Why did you do it?” Bucky asked quietly. Steve shrugged,

“I just wanted to be brave and strong to protect my friends.”

“But you are,” Bucky whispered, “You’re so brave.”

Before Steve could protest, Bucky leaned down and pressed their lips together. Steve gasped and Bucky smiled into the kiss. He kept it slow and soft, and pulled away after a few seconds so Steve wouldn’t have another asthma attack.

“Bucky-” Steve started, but Bucky silenced him by pressing butterfly kisses down his face. He kissed Steve’s forehead and the tip of his nose and then briefly pressed his lips against his again. This time Steve kissed back with passion and then suddenly there was tounge and-

“Hold your horses!” Natasha’s voice broke through the haze that clouded Steve’s mind. Bucky chuckled as Steve pulled away and lunged himself at his best friend. Natasha caught him easily, and then wrapped her arms around him tightly. There were tears in her eyes.

“I missed you so much.” She whispered, voice wavering.

“Me too Nat, me too.” Steve said.

↮

**6 months Later**

“Aw goddamn.” Clint swore, chucking his controller across the room. Natasha cackled evilly next to him.

“I win. _Again_.” She said, punching Clint in the arm. Bruce watched them with a dark expression.

“Aw Brucey,” Clint wiggled his eyebrows, “If you wanna spend time with Nat I will gladly make space for you.”  
Thor chocked on his chocolate milk and started coughing.

“I…I don’t…” Bruce started, burning red. Natasha was also blushing.

“Oh my God, just go play the damn game,” Clint rolled his eyes and passed Bruce his controlled. Sam walked in through the front door, dropping the groceries on the floor,

“Man that’s heavy,” He  wheezed, “Who wanted four packets of coffee?!”

“Me!” Tony popped up from the basement, and began rummaging through the bags.

“What you working on?” Sam asked.

“This thing called Ultron,” Tony grumbled, a cookie in his mouth and coffee in his arms.

“Tony, _no_.” Bruce said from the couch.

“Tony, _yes_!” Tony said, eyes twinkling excitedly. Just then the front door burst open and Steve and Bucky tumbled in, making out, hands in each other’s hair. Everyone froze and Steve pulled away for 0.2 seconds,

“I, um…we’ll be in our room…,” he managed to say, breathing hard, and then Bucky swooped him up into his arms, and practically ran to their room, clothes falling everywhere in the process. The Avengers stared at each other in shock, and then Thor burst out laughing.

“So the date went well, yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments&Kudos pleaseeeee?


	4. 1001 Potter Nights - Aladdin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is a lowly beggar, a 'gutter punk.' Along with his best friend Hermione he doesn't think life can get better for them on the cold streets of Godricks Hollow. And then a weird proposition comes along, followed by an even weirder pendant...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't read over this because I wanted to upload it, so sorry if it's a bit muddled up.  
> I know y'all were waiting for Drarry so I really hope you like it!  
> Enjoy <3

**1001 Potter Nights: Aladdin**

It was a cold, dark night in Godrick’s Hollow. The wind picked up as the man moved restlessly, standing in front of a gnarled, old willow. The moon was hidden by the clouds and all that was visible was the large turban on the man’s head. A howl came from the woods in front of him, and the man flinched. He wished the lanterns were working.

Then, another man appeared out of nowhere, a small, hunched over man, running across the field towards the man in the turban.

“You’re late.” The man in the turban spoke, his voice low and cold, his face still hidden.

“A-Apologies master.” The small man bowed down until his long nose touched the floor.

“No matter, Wormtail,” the man in the turban waved the man off, “you’re here now, with the wand I assume?”

“Y-Yes, master!” Wormtail trembled like a leaf. He stuffed his hand into the fanny pack hanging at his fat hip, and dug out a long, dark stick. He bowed again, offering it to the man in the turban. The man snatched it up and his eyes shone greedily, the only think visible from his covered face.

“Yeeeeesssss…” he hissed, “We can now begin.” The man proceeded to hiss something in an unknown language, wand pointing at the willow, as Wormtail stood beside him, watching the forest fearfully. The trees bent and wobbled in the wind, as if pulling away from the man muttering a curse. Then the tree in front of them groaned and came to life, swinging its branches around, warding people off, threatening to hit, maim or kill. Wormtail stepped backwards.

A slithering sound came from somewhere in the dark, and Wormtail pushed  closer to the man in the turban, seeking protection. A sliver of the moon glided out from behind a cloud, illuminating the monster that moved out of the tree.

It was a massive snake, bigger than a house, with teeth the size of Wormtail’s arm and…

“Don’t look it in the eyes.” The man in the turban commanded, and Wormtail’s gaze automatically dropped to his feet. He was sweating, hands shaking with fear, “and remember to bring me the stone.”

_Who disturbssss my ssssslumber?_

The snake hissed, tounge flickering to lick at the grass. Wormtail glanced at the man in the turban, and his master nodded at him.

“P-Peter Pettigrew.” Wormtail whispered, fearfully.

_Know this. Only one may enter here. One whose worth lies far within. A diamond in the rough!_

The snakes jaw relaxed, and opened wide. The two men could see slippery steps lining its throat, made of stone as if the Snake was not really alive. Wormtail gulped and looked at the man in the turban pleadingly.

“What are you waiting for?” His master rasped, “go and I shall reward you with what you want most.”

Wormtail unconsciously cradled the stump of one of his hands to his chest.

“Yes master,” he nodded and turned towards the Snake. Tentatively, Wormtail stepped forward. The Snake didn’t move as the man neared it. When he was at the entrance, Wormtail froze, and looked inside the monsters mouth. The walls were glittering with gemstones and they made Wormtail’s eyes light up. Slowly, he placed one foot on the first step, and squeezed his eyes shut. Nothing happened, the Snake didn’t even flinch.

“Go on fool!” The man in the turban yelled behind him. Wormtail nodded and then stepped inside. As soon as his other foot touched the ground, the Snake let out a horrible hiss. Wormtail whirled around, gave his master a terrified look, and started forward.

The Snake’s mouth snapped shut and Wormtail’s scream was lost. The man in the turban didn’t blink as he watched the snake slither back inside the tree.

_Seek thee out, the diamond in the rough._

↮

Harry Potter was homeless, a street rat. His parents have been street rats before him, and his grandparents before them. When Harry was seven his parents both died. At the time, Harry had no idea what actually happened to them; one day they just disappeared. Since then he’d been alone, until he met Hermione Granger – his best friend. Hermione was poor, just like Harry, but she worked in a little coffee shop as an assistant, and always had some clean clothes and change for her and Harry, so the police wouldn’t question why two nineteen years olds lived on the streets. She didn’t earn very much, and nearly always gave the money away to an orphanage or some homeless children on the streets. Harry managed to get his own place, and he took Hermione in.

It wasn’t much, just an abandoned room, dirty and old in a massive warehouse on the outskirts of Godrick’s Hollow. It had a straw mattress in the corner and a dirty cloth over the window to shield from the rain, wind and sun, no running water or central heating. Harry loved the place for one reason – it had the greatest view. At night, Hogsmead lit up with millions of candles, and the Hogwarts castle at the side of the mountain shone brightly like a star. Harry would often sit in his window, legs dangling in the air, staring at the castle ahead of him, dreaming about it, whenever he was cold or hungry or both. He knew that this was better than any ‘community flat,’ at least here he could actually _see_ the world. Or at least a part of it.    

↮

Hermione walked down the busy road, her cloak pulled tightly around her. She was leaning over, as if she was an old woman, and took shaky, uneven steps. When she reached the cake sale stand she let out a croaked, well-practiced gasp and tripped, crumbling to the ground. Immediately the scouts jumped to her rescue, asking her if she was alright. Hermione clutched the young girl’s arms, thanking him over and over, shielding her face from their gazes. She always felt guilty doing this.

Unseen, Harry stood on the roof nearby. He carefully flipped himself so he was hanging upside down, and then reached for the freshly baked cookies and cupcakes and muffins. He had one in each hand, and several in his pockets, when the man taking care of the scout girls turned around.

“Hey!” he shouted, but Harry had already pulled himself up, “Oi! You! Come back here!” the sales man yelled, starting after Harry, but Hermione stuck her foot out, and the man tumbled to the ground. She threw off her heavy cloak and then gave herself a running start. She ran straight for the wall of a house, ran two steps up the bricks, and then let herself be pulled to the roof of the cake stand by Harry.

“Come back here you gutter punks!” the man yelled. People were beginning to collect by his stand, and a group of guards, or Snatchers, as Harry and Hermione called them, came round a corner.

“Oh-oh,” Harry said, “Off we go.”

The two of them saluted the people below them mockingly, and then gracefully pulled themselves up onto the closest roof. The wild chase began, with the Snatchers yelling insults, and Harry and Hermione laughing their heads off.

“Stop you thieves!” a dozen police officers were chasing the two teens now.

“All this for a couple of cakes?” Harry asked, breathlessly. Hermione just giggled in reply. Somehow, four guards have made it onto the roofs with Harry and Hermione, and were now got on their heels, racing across the roofs of China Town.

“Washing lines!” Hermione panted out. Harry nodded, and they swerved to the left, each grabbing a cloak that was drying out in the sun. Harry and Hermione slid down the washing line, the women underneath them screaming at them angrily. They made it back down to street level, leaving the guards officers folded on the roof, clothes falling down all around them, too stunned to pull out guns.

Harry and Hermione clinked two cupcakes together, and were about to dig in, when the remaining Snatchers rounded a corner.

“There they are!”

“You won’t get away that easy!”

“They think that was easy!?” Hermione asked, as she and Harry began running again, rolling their eyes. They grabbed two sheets as they went and wrapped them around themselves as a disguise. They made it over to a few prostitutes hanging around outside the brothel.

“Hello ladies!” Harry winked. The girls rolled their eyes,

“Getting in trouble this early?” Lavender asked, as Cho snickered.

“You’re only in trouble if you get caught,” Harry pointed out. Two strong hands hauled Harry and Hermione backwards, causing their sheets to fall off. The two exchanged panicked looks.

“We’re in trouble!” they said in unison. Hermione turned round and kneed the guard in the crotch. The Snatcher’s hands went down to cradle his injured manhood as he cried out. Hermione grabbed Harry’s wrist and together they ran into the brothel.

They were on the second level when Seamus, the owner of the brothel, peered round the corner.

“Looking for a job, ‘Mione?” he asked sultrily.

“No thanks,” Hermione ran past him. Harry pulled himself up onto the windowsill of the closest window,

“Catch you later Seamus!” he called. The brothel owner waved at them as the two thieves disappeared out of the window. They landed in a shady alleyway and after a few more minutes of running, they realized they were no longer being followed.

The two collapsed against a wall, laughing. They took out their cupcakes and were about to enjoy the meal, when they saw two young boys sitting in the corner. They had hollow cheeks and ashy skin. Their eyes eyed the bread hungrily, but the two didn’t say anything. Hermione and Harry exchanged a look.

“I wasn’t hungry anyway,” Harry offered. Hermione nodded and the two got up and walked over to the kids.

“What are your names?” Hermione asked, kneeling down next to them.

“Colin and Dennis.” The older boy whispered. Hermione pushed all the cupcakes Harry stole into their arms,

“Here, eat them,” she said warmly. The boys looked at her in disbelief.

“Go on then,” Harry said, grinning. The two boys dug in happily, like starved animals, spreading icing and chocolate chips all over their faces. Hermione got to her feet, dusted her hands off, and then linked Harry’s arm. They walked into the sunshine, and were surprised when they saw a parade on the street. Unicorns and large hound dogs walked down, dozens of servants keeping them at bay. At the front rode majestic horses, a few fast cars, airplanes in the sky rained colour over the large crowd that gathered.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

“Another suitor for the young duchess,” Hermione guessed. The two little boys that Harry and Hermione gave their bread to, ran out into the street, giggling. The parade halted as a horse almost ran the two boys over.

“Hey! Little brats!” the rider drew his whip, pointing it at the boys. The older one stepped in front of the younger one, but he still looked tiny and defenceless, “I’ll teach you a lesson!”

Before anyone could stop him, Harry ran into the road, grabbed the two boys and pulled them back, out of the reach of the whip. The man’s eyes snapped to the thief,

“What do you think you’re doing, gutter punk!?” he bellowed. Harry glared at him,

“If I was as rich as you, I would be able to afford some manners.” He said confidently. Hermione gave him a horrified look, “and by the way, child abuse is illegal in the country, mate.”

“You…” the man seethed, and then he raised his whip and struck Harry across the cheek. Harry felt a sting on his skin as he was thrown back. Hermione caught him before he hit the ground, “That’s where you thieves belong. On the ground,” the man said. Harry’s eyes sparkled with angry energy, and he spat at the man. It hit him square in the face.

“Shit.” Hermione swore, grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him backwards. They ran again and the man yelled after them,

“You are a worthless thief.  You were born a thief, you'll die a thief, and only your fleas will mourn you!”

↮

Quirrel stood with his back to a bowl filled with churning water, his turban laying on the floor. At the back of his head was a hideous face. It was pale and nose – less, with eyes like a snake, the skin wrinkled like an old mans, hard as a marble.

The face  hissed, “Ah, waters of time, reveal to me the one who can enter the cave.” The water whirled in the bowl and a weird silvery mist circled amongst the waves. It formed a picture of a simple beggar, with messy black hair and sparkling green eyes, sitting at a window. The Dark Lord’s face lit up, “We’ve got him! Our diamond in the rough!”

Quirrel whirled round to see for himself,

“That’s him?!” he demanded, outraged, “that’s who we’ve been looking for all these years?!” The Dark Lord ignored him,

“Let us send him an extended…invitation, to Hogwarts, shall we?”

↮

Harry sat at his window again, stomach churning with hunger. Hermione was sleeping silently in the corner. A soft breeze picked up off the streets and it ruffled Harry’s hair. He rested his chin on his knees and gazed out at the glimmering lights below him. Everyone was right – he was a beggar, and he would die a beggar.

Harry look at Hermione in the corner, just a dark lump, rising and falling. He smiled gently. Out of everyone she was the only one who cared about him, and she was like a sister to him. He wished he could give her a better life.

With a deep sigh, Harry swung his legs back inside the room, pushing the make shift curtain closed. He quietly walked over to the sleeping Hermione, and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Someday,” he promised, “We’ll be rich and we’ll live in a palace. And all of our problems will disappear.” 

Harry grabbed his ratty covers and wrapped them around himself like a cocoon. He plopped down on the hard, cold ground and closed his eyes. Immediately he fell asleep.

↮

It was a brand new day, and once again the sole purpose of Harry’s and Hermione’s day was finding food. Their stomach’s rumbled with hunger, and demanded to be satisfied. So Hermione borrowed some clothes from Seamus’ brothel, and now was well into performing an exotic dance in the middle of the street, attracting all kinds of attention.

Harry causally sauntered over to the abandoned fruit stand and plucked a few apples from the plastic bowls. He pushed them into his abnormally deep pockets, and then continued on his way, as Hermione gathered up her act. The two left, with clapping still echoing behind them.

They  climbed onto the roof of a pub called _The Three Broomsticks_ that was closed for a day, and watched life go on below them, while munching on their stolen fruit. They sat in silence, when suddenly Hermione spotted something. She bumped her shoulder against Harry’s,

“Hey look,” she pointed down below them, where a slight figure was pushing itself against the tide of the crowd, looking awkward and out of place, “a new comer.”

The two watched as the person bumped into various villagers, muttering ‘sorry’s’ and ‘excuse me’s.’ Suddenly its hood was thrown off, to reveal sparkling blue eyes and fiery red hair. The girls eyes widened and then she hastily pulled the hood back up. Harry stared, because the girl was absolutely stunning, with that flowy hair and the eyes as blue as the sky on a summer day and…

“Oi, Harry.” Hermione snapped her fingers in front of Harry’s eyes, “wake up.”

“She was so beautiful,” Harry said dreamily. Hermione groaned,

“Are you stupid?!” she hissed, “or just blind?”

“What, you didn’t think she was beautiful?” Harry asked, surprised. Hermione smacked him upside the head,

“No, you idiot. That’s the king’s daughter,” she explained. Harry blinked at her,

“What?” he asked stupidly.

“Have you never been to parades? The king has seven children, six boys and a girl, all with red hair and-”

“Yes, Mione,” Harry waved her off, “I know, I know. Are you sure it was her?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Hermione scoffed, she leaned forward, observing the girl.

“Well then what are we waiting for?” Harry asked, “Do you know how much we could earn for getting her back safely to Hogwarts?!”

“You’re right!” Hermione’s eyes sparkled, and without another word the two slipped down the roof, and onto the street. They followed the cloaked figure for a while, keeping their distance, but staying close enough so that they could easily catch the princess if she wanted to run. The girl occasionally stopped at stands, to inspect the things on display.

“What is she doing outside the castle walls?” Hermione asked. Harry shrugged, eyes glued to the back of the princess’ cloak, eyes twinkling. Hermione ignored the urge to face palm – they they go again. Harry Potter had the unfortunate habit of falling in love with people who were…well, unfortunate.  He seemed well on his way to fancying the princess, and before that it was one of Seamus’ whores, Cho.

The princess came to a stop at a fruit stand and examined the food on offer.

“Oh-oh.” Hermione muttered as she and Harry neared her. The girl reached for a juicy green apple and bit into it, letting out a satisfied noise. She turned on her heel, to walk away, but was stopped by the burly form of the owner of the stand.

“You have to pay for that!” the man said in a deep, rumbling voice. He wore purple robes and a hat on top of his bald head. The princess had to crane her head to look at the man,

“I don’t have any money,” she said apologetically. The man frowned at her,

“Why would you take something if your cannot pay for the food?!” he rumbled. The girl flinched,

“Please sir, if you just let me go back to the palace, the king is my father and-” she started, but the owner grasped her wrist roughly,

“THIEF!” he bellowed. At that precise moment Hermione and Harry came to a stop in front of him,

“Excuse our poor sister!” Hermione improvised, grabbing Ginny’s shoulders and pulling her backwards, out of the reach of the man who was now glaring at them.

“Yes, she was hit with a curse as a child,” Harry said, “she’s a bit crazy.”

“She said she knows the king,” the man said gruffly. Hermione panicked – if anybody found out that this was a princess then they wouldn’t get a reward…

“She thinks he’s the king,” she blurted, pointing at Harry. She gave the princess a pointed look, and the girl threw herself to the ground and began bowing in front of Harry,

“Oh your lordship your greatness is truly outstanding!” she praised, and Harry had to admit that she did look a bit crazy.

“Sorry,” he muttered to the owner as he and Hermione grabbed the princess’ hands and pulled her up and away from the stand. The girl gave them confused looks, and then a pear fell out of Harry’s pockets, which were bulging. The stand owner’s eyes widened,

“Thieves!” he yelled, “get back here!”

But Harry, Hermione and the princess were already sprinting through the streets, ducking into alleyways. This was a familiar routine for the two thieves, but the princess was soon out of breath.

“Where are we going?” she demanded, as Harry and Hermione pulled her along, “Who are you?!”

“Just run,” Hermione commanded through gritted teeth. The princess clamped her lips together and the trio sped through the streets. Eventually they made it to Harry’s loft, and they collapsed against the walls, catching their breaths.

“Successful morning, don’t you think ‘Mione?” Harry asked, face flushed from the run. Hermione hummed in agreement when Harry chucked her an apple. She bit into it happily. The princess gave the two a weird look,

“I-um,” she spoke, “thank you. For saving me.”

“No problem,” Harry grinned at her, and she threw off her hood. Once again, Harry was struck by her beauty, “So this was your first time in Diagon Alley?”

The princess winced,

“Yes, was it that obvious?”

“You kind of stood out,” Hermione commented, chucking the core of her apple into the air, “you know with your hair and all.”

The princess blushed and reached for her hood,

“No!” Harry exclaimed, a bit too fast. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, “I mean, we know who you are.”

“Ginevra Molly Weasley,” Hermione recited, “the youngest child and only daughter of the king and queen of Godrick’s Hollow.”

“Beautiful,” Harry whispered. Both the girls looked up at him, and the boy blushed, “I-erm, I mean…”

“Anyway, Ginevra,” Hermione saved him further embarrassment, “we saw you in the market place and we had to swoop in and save you.”

“Thank you, again,” the princess said sincerely, “and please, call me Ginny.”

“Ginny.” Harry said dreamily, “nice name.”

“Thanks,” Ginny shrugged, eyes twinkling, “and you are…”

“Harry,” Harry introduced himself, “and that’s Hermione.” Hermione waved.

“So…are you two like, together?” Ginny asked.

“No!” Harry pulled a face,

“Oh Merlin no,” Hermione pretended to gag. Ginny grinned easily, and Harry smiled back. Hermione glanced between the two,

“Right,” she got up and dusted herself off, “I promised to help…Luna, with something…I’ll, um, be back later.”

Hermione flounced out of the loft, leaving Harry and Ginny together.

“So is this where you live?” Ginny asked after a moment, breaking the awkward silence.

“Yeah,” Harry cleared his throat, “just me and ‘Mione. We’re like free birds, you see, we come and go as we please.” Ginny stared at him as if it was the best thing ever, “It’s not much,” Harry shrugged, “but it’s got a great view,” he pulled back the ratty curtain covering the hole in the wall that was a pathetic excuse for a window. The sunshine was  glimmering off the windows of Hogwarts not far off, “your castle looks amazing from here.”

“Yeah,” Ginny agreed, but she suddenly seemed sad. Harry frowned,

“So what are you doing so far away from home anyway?”

“Rebellious stage I guess,” Ginny shrugged, but Harry acted as if he hadn’t heard her. His bright green eyes were glazed over as he watched the castle looming in the distance,

“I wonder what it would be like,” he mused, “to have servants to everything for you, to never go hungry. To sleep in luscious beds and wear fine clothes…”

“It’s not that wonderful really,” Ginny rolled her eyes, “people command your entire life.”

“It’s better than here,” Harry snorted, sitting sideways on the windowsill, staring at Hogwarts, “sometimes I feel like there’s no end to this life, like I’m trapped.”

Ginny gave him a sad look,

“I know how you feel,” she said quietly. The two lapsed into silence, looking at each other. Ginny smiled at Harry, and he was about to smile back when he remembered that _he was just a street rat and she was a princess._

Harry looked away and pulled an apple from his abnormally large pockets. He tossed it to Ginny,

“So where are you from?” the princess inquired, rolling the fruit in her hands. Harry shrugged,

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. Ginny got up off the dusty floor and sat down next to Harry, their shoulders touching.

“My parents forcing me to get married,” she said hollowly. Harry’s head snapped up and he looked at Ginny,

“That’s horrible,” he admitted. Ginny laughed humourlessly,

“Bill’s married to Fleur and they have an alliance with Beauxbatons,” she said, “Charlie has his dragons, so they don’t pester him. Percy’s with Audrey, George is engaged to Angelina, nobody’s bothering with what Fred does. Ron’s as free as a bird…,” Ginny sighed, “and then there’s me…the only daughter of the Weasleys. They’re insisting that I get married soon.”

“Well do you want to?” Harry asked, forgetting himself and reaching for Ginny’s hand. He intertwined their fingers and she smiled at him gratefully,

“No.” She admitted, “Last night another suitor visited. Dean Thomas,” she pulled a face, “he didn’t last long.”

“Oh.” Harry said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, “you know the market place is a dangerous place, you could’ve died.”

Ginny just shrugged, glaring at the Hogwarts castle in the distance. Suddenly she turned to Harry and smirked,

“I bet my parents would be really angry,” she said, leaning towards Harry, looking at his lips, “if I was to fall for,” Harry leaned towards her, heart beating fast, “a street rat.” The name pierced Harry, and he pulled back. Ginny gave him a confused look and opened her mouth to say something, but just then a whole bunch of Snatchers poured into the loft.

“There he is!” one yelled, pointing his wand at Harry, “he kidnapped the princess!”

Harry stood up on the windowsill and pulled Ginny up with him.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. She stared at him,

“I-um…”

“ _Ginny_.”

The girl hesitated, and Harry groaned. Without waiting for her permission he threw himself backwards, leaving the girl on the windowsill. Nothing would happen to her anyway – the Snatchers were there to take her back to her little perfect home…

Harry landed on a hammock that his neighbours put out in case he had to escape quickly. The material cushioned his fall, and Harry saw Ginny, staring down at him from his window, for two seconds before he was being pulled up.

He came face to face with the hideous mask of a Snatcher,

“There you are street rat,” the man chuckled, and the there were handcuffs smacked over Harry’s wrists. He was glad that Hermione was out.

“No!” Ginny yelled from the window, “let him go! I command you to let him go!”

But the Snatchers ignored her and soon Harry was being dragged away.

↮

Harry was cold. He watched miserably as the water dripped from the ceiling of his cell. There were no clocks in the room, to indicate how much time Harry has been sitting in that room for, but his back ached and he was soaked through from the little trickles of water running down the walls and disappearing in the drains.

As far as he could tell, Harry was the only one in the spacious cell, and there were no exits or entrances, except the little barred window near the ceiling, that let in little light.

Harry cursed himself for trusting Ginny. He was stupid, taking her to his home instead of the palace. Now he was being accused of many weird things – such as terrorism, kidnap and murder, which he didn’t commit. A pretty face was all it took, and now Harry was here, awaiting his sentence. He wished he could communicate with Hermione, but he had no idea where she was. At least she was safe.

The boy let his eyes fall shut as he leaned his head against the wall. He just wanted to go to sleep.

“I’m so stupid,” Harry whispered to himself, but his voice echoed off the walls.

“You’re only stupid if you give up, boy,” a voice answered. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Who’s here?!” he demanded, getting up. An old man shuffled out from behind a column. He had white hair like clouds and a wild look in his eyes.

“Harry Potter, my boy,” he croaked, “I knew your parents.”

Harry blinked at him,

“You did?” he asked. The old man nodded,

“My name is Ollivander and I am here to help you,” he said.

“How?” Harry asked.

“There is a cave, boy.  Filled with gold and diamonds, the treasure of a thousand thieves. Treasure enough to impress even your princess,” the man smiled eerily. Harry looked at him in disbelief, imagining what it would be like if he had enough money to marry Ginny, to see her in a gorgeous white dress and to be able to kiss her and…

“No,” he said, breaking out of his daydream, “no, you know the law. Only a prince can marry a princess.”

Suddenly Ollivander was right by Harry, leaning down to whisper in his ear,

“Whoever has the gold makes the rules,” the old man hissed, a cold breeze picking up. Harry stepped away from him, looking suspicious.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Only an old wand maker,” Ollivander said innocently, “searching for someone with young, strong, hands to help me open the cave.”

“Why would you share the treasure with me?” Harry asked,

“I only want one thing,” Ollivander croaked, “an old stone. That’s all I want, and you can have the rest.”

“Okay,” Harry relaxed slightly, “say I’d help you get to this…cave. There’s still a problem – we’re stuck in here.”

“Not everything is as it seems,” Ollivander hissed, and pressed a brick on the wall. A groaning sound filled the cell and a door appeared in the wall, a hollow black hole, where a cold wind came from.

“After you,” Harry smirked.

↮

After many turns in a cold corridor not unlike the cell, Ollivander and Harry came up onto the grassy field, on the other side of Hogwarts. The castle gleamed close by, and behind it was Godrick’s Hollow, a shining city.

“Wow,” Harry breathed.

“Here boy,” Ollivander motioned at him, and the two stood in front of an oak. Ollivander opened his mouth and whispered in a breathy, hissy kind of way. Harry could understand him.

“ _Spirit of the Cave of Wonders, shine your greatness upon us and let thy diamond in the rough enter and take what is rightfully his.”_

Out of nowhere, a massive snake appeared. Harry yelped and stepped back, but the snake ignored him, simply opening its jaw wide, and freezing. Harry could see steps down its throat.

“What the-” Harry started, heart beating wildly.

“You must go, boy,” Ollivander said, pushing the boy forward. Harry stumbled, but caught himself before he fell into the gaping mouth of the snake. He turned around to look at Ollivander, “go!” the old man demanded, “go and bring me back a stone, but don’t touch anything else. Then, and only then, will all the riches be yours.”

Harry took a deep breath, and then stepped forward. Nothing happened, when he placed both feet on the first stone step, so taking that as an ‘okay,’ Harry began descending the staircase.

Candles came to life all around him, hovering near the ceiling, and Harry gasped, as the walls sparkled with tiny pieces of gold embedded in the walls. He walked down the steps, looking around in awe. Soon he was standing in an enormous cave, filled with reaches. Gold, silver, diamonds, silk clothing and crowns decorated the floor up to the ceiling. Harry felt dizzy as he saw all the treasure, only a handful would make him the richest man in all of Godrick’s Hollow. He imagined coming home with his pockets stuffed full of gold. He’d be able to get himself a proper house, and a house for Hermione too. He could buy food for all the poor children in the streets…

Without even realizing it, Harry had been reaching for a necklace of pearls, but then something weird happened. One of the gorgeous, dark red carpets sprung to life, unrolling itself, and smacking Harry’s hand away. The boy stumbled backwards, eyes wide as the carpet blocked the pearls from view. Harry watched, mesmerized, as the carpet motioned at the other end of the room. Harry looked up and saw a simple, grey stone sitting alone on a little rise.

“Is that it?” Harry asked sceptically. The carpet nodded at him, “okay let’s go get it then.”

The boy walked down the empty space that ran down the length of the whole room, ignoring the riches that caught his eye left and right. He fixated his gaze on the stone, and walked with purpose. Harry climbed the three steps that led to the landing and then  grabbed the stone. It felt warm to touch, as if someone held it for a long time. The boy didn’t bother looking at it, as he stuffed it into one of his big pockets. Harry walked back the way he came, and waved at the carpet, who waved back.

He was soon climbing the stairs again, feeling intrigued about what the stone could do, already forgetting about the riches he saw downstairs. Ollivander came into view, eyes sparkling.

“Did you get it?” the old man asked.

“Yeah!” Harry called, a smile on his face. He climbed out of the cave, which was now warm with light, and dug into his pocket. Ollivander’s eyes followed his movements greedily, and he snatched the stone away from Harry as soon as he saw it.

“At last!” the man grinned.

“Do I get my reward now?” Harry asked. Ollivander turned to him, smiling wickedly.

“Yes, boy!” His eyes blazed red and then he grabbed Harry’s shirt with surprising strength, dragging him back to the cave opening.

“Wait! Wait!” Harry dug his heels into the grass, “What are you doing?!”

“Your reward?!” Ollivander snorted, “like I’d share my treasure with you!”

Harry began to panic, he tried to rip himself away from Ollivander’s grip, but it was no use, the man was too strong. Soon, the man had Harry dangling over the stone steps of the cave, cackling madly.

“Goodbye, diamond in the rough,” the man hissed. In his last effort to get free, Harry slashed at Ollivander’s arm with the knife in his back pocket, causing the man to shriek and open his hands, letting Harry go, “You piece of shit!” Ollivander screamed. He pulled a piece of gold from the walls of the cave and when he wasn’t looking, Harry grabbed his stone and stuffed it in his pocket.

The cave groaned, and Ollivander thrust his hand forward, pushing Harry into the cave. The boy yelled as he was thrown backwards, sailing down at an impossible speed, the stone digging into his hip. The opening above him disappeared as the cave closed, the stairs turning to solid rock.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, sure that he was about to become a bloody pulp on the floor below him, when the carpet appeared out of nowhere and swooped Harry up.

“Carpet!” Harry exclaimed, relief flooding him. The carpet gave him a little wave and the safely landed him in the empty aisle amongst the two walls of riches. Harry sat down and took a deep breath, thanking Merlin for not dying. The boy looked around, searching for an exit, but the only one was now sealed. Desperate, Harry collapsed on the floor. He didn’t know what to do, how to go home…it seemed his fate would be to rot here for all eternity, or die from the lack of food and water. A very slow and painful death. Harry felt like crying – how did he get himself into this mess!? Goddamn him and his greediness.

Harry thought of Hermione, how was she holding up? The two of them grew up prepared for death at any second, but Harry doubted that either of them could’ve survived so long before the other. How was ‘Mione going to steal food? How was she going to survive? She was a strong girl, but was she strong _enough_?

And then there was Ginny. The wonderful Ginny that he only met today but he thought, no he _knew_ , that it was love. For her, he was ready to do anything to become rich and powerful, to become a prince, just so he could marry her. Harry thought of her gorgeous blue eyes and the way her fiery hair peeked out from underneath her hood. He thought of her delicate hands and the dusting of freckles at the back of her knuckles. Harry wanted to get out of the cave, and see her again. And again, and again. He wanted to wake up next to her and weave his dreams with her.

But he was stuck here, in this cave, tricked by an old man to starve to his death. The carpet flew over to Harry and brushed a piece of his hair out of his eyes, as if to comfort him. Harry smiled at it weakly,

“Thanks.” He said hoarsely. The carpet patted his pocket, and Harry frowned, “What is it?” he asked, digging into it. He felt around for a second, around a short piece of rope and an apple core, until his fingers were gripping the warm stone. It seemed to pulse in his hand, like a heartbeat.

Harry pulled the stone out and stared at it. It was tiny, laying there in the centre of Harry’s palm, gleaming black. There was something drawn on the inside, but because of the fine layer of dust on top of the stone, Harry couldn’t read it. Without really thinking about it, the boy rubbed the surface of the stone, trying to get the grime off.

The stone suddenly flickered gold and flew upwards from Harry’s palm, spinning in the air rapidly. From experience, Harry knew that something that flew meant bad news. Like arrows. So he go up and started backing away. But then the stone turned black again, and fell to the floor. A silvery mist came out of it, slithering around Harry’s ankles like a caress, and a smoky form rose from the stone. It looked like a human, and then all the mist was sucked into the form, and just like that there was a boy standing in front of Harry.

He had milky pale skin, and silver eyes like the mist. His white blonde hair was tousled as if he just woke up, and his lean torso was bare, save for a black waistcoat that matched his trousers. His feet were bare, and the stone was now a pendant around his slender neck.   

Harry gaped at the gorgeous boy, who’s soft, sleepy features suddenly sharpened. Those piercing silver eyes focused on Harry, darkening with anger. The boy clenched his jaw,

“Are you my master?” he asked, his voice sending a shiver down Harry’s spine.

“I-um, no?” Harry offered, confused. The boy looked at him in disbelief, and crossed his arms over his chest,

“So you didn’t rub the stone?” he asked sceptically. Harry’s eyes were still glued to the boy’s eyes,

“Huh?” he asked dumbly. The boy sighed in annoyance,

“The stone!” he pointed to his throat, where the stone gleamed, “did you rub it? Ay or nay?”

“Y-Yeah, I rubbed the stone,” Harry said. The boy rolled his eyes,

“Great,” he said sarcastically, “so what can I do for you today, _master_?”

Harry just stared at him. He was incredibly confused.

“Who…who are you?” he inquired. The boy sighed.

“I’m a genie,” he said like it was obvious,

“My name is Harry,” Harry grinned, “Harry Potter.”

“That’s nice, Potter, now tell me your wishes so I can go back to sleep,” the boy wrinkled his nose, which Harry couldn’t help but find cute. The dark haired boy suddenly scolded himself, _you can’t think that! You’re in love with Ginny, remember! Also this genie guy is a boy, and you don’t like boys!_

“S-So,” Harry cleared his head, “what exactly do you do…Genie?”

“I can make three wishes come true,” Genie held up three fingers as if Harry was slow,

“Any three wishes?” Harry asked.

“Well,” Genie shrugged, “there are some rules. I can’t force anyone to fall in love with you,” he put down one finger, “I can’t bring back people from the dead,” another finger down, “and I can’t kill anyone for you.” Genie put the final finger down, “but except for that I can do pretty much anything.”

Harry’s eyes widened – three wishes! Any three wishes! He could get a house for himself and ‘Mione, he could get rid of poverty and murder…or he could make himself a prince and marry Ginny. The possibilities were endless! But Harry was a thief and a compulsive liar, and naturally he wanted to cheat to get more wishes. With a confident smirk, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I bet you that you can’t do anything,” he said. Genie gawked at him, and then gasped, outraged.

“How dare you! I am an all-powerful Genie! I can do anything!”

“I bet you can’t get me out of this cave,” Harry said nonchalantly, examining his nails. Genie smirked,

“Watch me,” he said. He clicked his fingers at the carpet, which immediately rose and pulled Harry on top. Genie plopped down next to Harry, but he didn’t make a dent in the material. He clicked his fingers and suddenly he was wearing an old fashioned pilot costume, complete with the googles.

“In case of emergency the exits are all around us,” Genie said monotonously, “in case of a fire…well, jump. Better get smashed to little pieces than burn to death,” he smiled sweetly at Harry, “and now, let me show you the true power of a Genie!”

And suddenly the carpet was up in the air, zooming through the air, right towards the roof. Harry’s hair was pulled away from his face, and his hands gripped the edges of the carpet. He suddenly felt unstable and really not safe, but Genie was laughing freely next to him and Harry hoped that if something happened the boy would save him.

“We’re outta hereee!” Genie yelled happily, and the carpet broke through the roof, and was out into the night air as if by…well, magic. Harry’s lungs filled with fresh air, and he watched as the carpet sped towards Godrick Hollow, clouds billowing past Harry’s face, cold wind tugging at his clothes. He couldn’t believe this.

↮

Ginny sat on her throne with her head in her hands, trying to get her breathing under control. Her six brothers sat in their thrones down the length of the hall, with her parents at the head. Quirrel, Arthur Weasley’s consultant, stood in front of the royal family.

“Quirrel,” Arthur said tiredly, reaching for his wives hand, “you’re lucky you are my most trusted advisor. We do not have the death penalty in Godrick’s Hollow, and what you did was an outrage. However I will pardon you this time, if this is to repeat itself-”

“Father!” Ginny jumped to her feet, “You can’t just let him go! He killed _Harry_!”

“She’s right!” Charlie, her eldest brother agreed.

“Well if Ginny didn’t sneak off to mingle with the peasants,” Percy said cruelly, “then this whole mess wouldn’t have happened.”

“Silence!” Molly Weasley demanded, “silence all of you! Enough! Let’s put this behind us, Quirrel? Ginny?”

“M-My deepest a-apologies p-princess.”

Quirrel bowed in front of Ginny and took her hand in his as if to kiss it, but the princess yanked it away with disgust. Charlie stared at Quirrel as if he were a leech.

“When I am king,” he said, “I will have the power to get rid of you. For what you did to my sister.”

“That’s enough Charlie!” Arthur reprimanded his son, “and now Ginevra, back to the suitor business...”

Before he could finish, Ginny got to her feet and stormed out of the room. Ronald, her youngest brother, made a pained sound at the back of his throat and chased after her. Quirrel slipped away during the commotion. He pressed a brick on the wall and a secret passage opened in the dark walls of Hogwarts. With a swish of his robes, Quirrel walked inside.

The room was filled with potions of different shapes and sizes, and a cauldron was bubbling in the middle. Quirrel angrily smashed a glass vial,

“If only we had gotten that damn stone,” he hissed, unravelling his turban. The Dark Lord’s face took a deep breath,

“It’s your goddamn fault,” he whispered insidiously, “If you haven’t been too busy swearing at the boy…”

“I know, I know,” Quirrel whimpered.

“And now the diamond in the rough is gone,” The Dark Lord groaned, “and our last chance to get the stone with him. What do you propose we do now?”

Quirrel leaned against his desk, and rubbed his eyes, thinking. A small sack of gold glittered opposite him on the shelf.

“What if we were to marry princess Ginevra?” he asked breathlessly, the idea hitting him.

“What?” the Dark Lord spat.

“Listen master!” Quirrel said, excitement bubbling in his voice, “If we were to marry Ginevra you’d be king!”

“Yes, yes,” the Dark Lord’s face lit up sinisterly, “If the six princes and the king and queen were to have an accident…”

“And Ginevra too!” Quirrel added,

“Then I would be king!” the Dark Lord hissed.

↮

Harry stood in his loft – a place he never thought he’d see again, smirking.

“Thank you for choosing Resurrection air lines!” Genie said cheerfully, his costume disappearing in a puff of silver smoke, “see? I told you I could get you out.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry leaned against the wall, “So I have three wishes right?”

“Two,” Genie interrupted, “you used this one up.”

“Well…technically I didn’t ask you to get me out of that cave,” Harry shrugged. Genie’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open.

“You-you…,” he gasped, “You tricked me! You bloody bastard!”

Harry’s smile faltered,

“Why are you like that?” he asked, “I let you out didn’t I? Some gratitude maybe?”

“For what?” Genie spat,

“Because now you’re free!”

Genie laughed humorously and sadness filled his grey eyes. He looked at Harry, and Genie looked so miserable that Harry wanted to reach out to comfort him.

“I’ll never be free,” Genie whispered, “rub the stone if you think of your first wish.” Genie clapped his hands and melted into silver mist, which was sucked into the black stone. Harry stared at it for a second, and then picked it up. It pulsed gently in his hand, and Harry could almost feel Genie through it. With a sigh, the boy pocketed the stone.

Just then the door flew open and a wild looking Hermione stumbled inside. Her eyes were red rimmed and widened as she saw Harry. In two steps she was by her best friend, squeezing the life out of him and crying.

“Oh Merlin, you idiot,” she sobbed into his shoulder, clinging onto him, “Where were you?! Neville from downstairs said the Snatchers took you away! I thought you were dead!”

“Shh, I’m sorry,” Harry wrapped his arms around the girl and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “It’s a long story.”

And it was a long story. It took Harry almost an hour to explain everything to Hermione. From the talk he had with Ginny, to being captured by the Snatchers and taken to the cell, to the weird old man taking him to a magical cave filled with riches. Harry told Hermione about how Ollivander betrayed him, and how he was stuck in the cave, and about the magic carpet, which was now laying peacefully on the loft’s dirty floor, and about the stone. Harry said, still in awe, about Genie, the boy in the stone, and about the three wishes and about how Genie got Harry out of the cave. By the end of his story Hermione’s mouth was hanging open.

“Three wishes?” she whispered in disbelief. Harry nodded,

“Harry you know what that means!” she said, face brightening up, “We could get a house and help the children and-”

“Yes I know, I know,” Harry said, conflicting thoughts filling his brain. He wanted a better life for him and Hermione, but he also wanted to marry Ginny..., “We’ll talk tomorrow,” Harry said, “We’ll get Genie up as well.”

“Okay,” Hermione smiled in the darkness, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

↮

Hermione and Harry sat crossed legged on the floor, staring at the stone.

“So you just…rub it?” Hermione asked. Harry nodded and reached for the stone. It was warm in his hands, and he pulled his sleeve over his hand, rubbing at the smooth stone. It flew up into the air and spun, before mist stared escaping from it. In a few seconds Genie was sitting next to them, wearing a thin cotton t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. He glared at the two,

“Oh there’s more,” he seethed, “great.”

“He’s not very nice is he?” Hermione mused, “My name is Hermione, and what’s your name?”

“Genie.”

Hermione exchanged a look with Harry,

“Is that your real name?” She asked. Genie looked taken aback, blinking at her,

“I-um, well…no,” he admitted, still looking surprised, “Nobody’s ever asked about my real name…”

“Well what’s your real name?” Harry asked. Genie looked at him,

“Um…it’s Draco…”

Harry’s heart did a little flutter that he tried desperately to ignore,

“Okay Draco,” he smiled gently, “we’d like you to advise you on our wishes.”

“Advise you?” Draco frowned. He looked confused,

“Yes,” Hermione said, “if you could make a wish, what would it be?”

Draco snorted, and looked down,

“I don’t think my wish applies to you,” he said quietly. He seemed so sad that Harry once again felt the urge to reach out to him.

“Well, tell us anyway,” Hermione prompted. Draco bit his lip and twisted his fingers together,

“Well…,”he whispered, “Freedom.”

“You’re a prisoner?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” Draco shrugged one shoulder, “I’m a prisoner of the stone. It comes with the Genie job. I have the power to grant anyone’s wishes, except my own,” Draco angrily levitated a rock off of the floor and chucked it at the wall, “It’s always just ‘genie this’ and ‘genie that’ and then thousands of years of loneliness in between. I’m so tired of it! All I want is to be my own master, to do as I please…” he trailed off, and blushed, “but never mind, this isn’t about me.”

“But it is!” Hermione disagreed. Harry looked at Draco,

“Hey,” he said softly, “I promise you, as my final wish – I will set you free.”

Draco looked at him, and Harry was surprised to see tears in his beautiful silver eyes,

“Liar,” the genie said, and his voice cracked, “That’s what he said a hundred years ago. And I’m still here.”

“Who said it?” Harry asked. Draco shook his head and took a deep breath.

“That’s none of your business, Potter,” he said, voice cold, “now on with the wish.”

Harry looked at Hermione, and she nodded.

“Okay, I want you to make me and ‘Mione a prince and princess,” Harry said, “I want you to make us rich with caravans of gold and animals and elephants and such.”

Draco nodded and got up, dusting his trousers off,

“Okay.” He said. He clicked his fingers and Harry and Hermione found themselves outside, on a grassy field, with Draco and the magic carpet, “Ready?” the genie asked. The two nodded. Draco whistled lowly and the wind around them picked up. Harry felt himself get pulled into the air, and heard Hermione squeal next to him. He suddenly felt dizzy, so he forced his eyes shut. He could hear commotion around him and shouting and noises, and it all became too much. Colours swirled behind his closed eyelids, explosions of fireworks, he saw shapes and faces and he could breathe-

And then it was all over.

Harry opened his eyes slowly and looked down on himself. He was wearing a silk white shirt and expensive trousers and shoes, a red cape billowed behind him and there was a feathered hat on his head. Harry turned to Hermione. His best friend was wearing a long, light blue dress, her hair done up in soft ringlets. She grinned at Harry, and then the two saw their parade. A dozen elephants, followed by many unicorns, exotic dancers and servants, snake charmers, wizards and witches, riches carried by strong men, fire breathers…even four grand dragons, they were all there, frozen in time.

“Does this suit your taste, master?” Draco asked. He was wearing a three piece suit, and was smirking. Harry stared at him for a second before he gathered himself,

“I-yes, thank you,” Harry said.

“Well, let’s go get your Ginny then,” Hermione grinned. Draco’s eyes narrowed, but he whistled lowly and the parade came to life. Music blared and laughs and shouts echoed through the street. Harry felt himself being lifted in the air, and then he and Hermione were seated on one of the hound dogs.

“This is Fluffy,” Draco said, patting the hound dog’s head, “He’s harmless…mostly. Anyway, you sure you want this?” the genie peered at Harry. The boy hesitated,

“Of course, why wouldn’t I want this?” he asked nervously. Draco shrugged, and then a smile appeared on his face as he sat down on the carpet.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” Draco’s voice boomed over the streets as if he was holding a microphone. He flew towards the front of the parade, suddenly dressed in expensive robes, like a very high up servant, “WELCOME TO YOUR CITY THE ONE AND ONLY, GREAT AND ALMIGHTY, DUDLEY AND MAFALDA DURSLEY!”

“Ew what a horrible names,” Harry muttered to Hermione who snorted. Draco ignored both of them and continued shouting, as people came out of their houses to see what the commotion was about.

“THE GENEROUS AND LOVING AND _VERY_ GOOD LOOKING PRINCE,” Harry blushed, scratching at his neck nervously, “IS HERE TO TAKE YOUR PRINCESS’ HEART IN MARRIAGE AND UNITE THE KINGDOMS OF GODRICK HOLLOW AND GRIMMAULD!”

Draco continued to advertise Harry as their procession rolled down the streets. A crowd followed, laughing women, being entertained by the snake charmers. Men whistled as the exotic dancers circled them playfully, and children laughed gleefully, chasing the elephant and popping the bubbles that suddenly flew up in the air.

↮

Ginny gaped at her parents in shock. Charlie and Ron and the twins were shouting loudly, telling Quirrel that he was sick and crazy and that there was no way, _no way_ , that Ginny would marry him. Bill tried to calm everyone down, and Percy just looked bored.

Quirrel looked smug for once, instead of nervous.

“If the princess has not chosen a husband by the appointed time, then the king shall choose for her,” he read again, from an old dusty book. Ginny’s owl, Pigwidgeon, hooted angrily at Quirrel, “I believe that after my long and loyal years of service I would be the perfect match.”

“I-Quirrel,” Arthur began, “perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to…”

Quirrel casually tapped his wand against his hand and a barely visible green light shone out.

“ _Imperio_ ,” Quirrel whispered under his breath. Molly and Arthur Weasley sat up straighter on their thrones and Quirrel cleared his throat, “I am the best match there is for Ginevra, your majesties.”

“Yes,” Molly said emotionlessly, “You and Ginevra shall be married-”

“Mother!” Ginny exclaimed. Her parents didn’t look at her, and Quirrel smirked,

“Looks like it’s all set, young princess,” he leered at Ginny who glared at him, “tomorrow we shall-”

Quirrel was interrupted by a commotion outside. Music filled the royal hall, along with the sound of laughter and singing.

“What the hell?” Ron muttered, striding towards the balcony. He gaped in awe at what he saw below him – a long, grand procession, weaving through the streets. Two royals sat on an elephant.

“Ginny,” Ron called, “I think it’s a suitor!”

Ginny’s face lit up and Quirrel panicked,

“B-but…”

Ginny pushed past him towards the door and Quirrel’s wand slammed into the floor. The spell was broken, and Molly and Arthur looked around in confusion.

“What is going on?” Arthur asked.

“A suitor,” Charlie said, “for Ginny.”

“Lovely,” Molly smiled and clapped her hands, following her daughter downstairs. The princess sprinted down the staircase, missing steps. She came to a stop in front of the front door. The music and laughter of the street was muffled by the heavy oak and Ginny felt herself start sweating, her hands clamping nervously. She promised herself that she would take this one, whoever he was, just so she wouldn’t be stuck with Quirrel. The servants spilled out into the hallway, followed by the Royal Family. The butlers walked up to the grand door and pushed it open.

Music filled the castle as the parade stood outside.

“D-Dragons,” Charlie muttered in awe, eyes wide. Ginny searched desperately for the prince, when a small, blonde boy stepped forward, into the hallway. He cleared his throat,

“My King and Queen, I present to you the Prince and Princess of Grimmauld; Mafalda and Dudley Dursley!”

Two people stepped into the hallway. One was a girl, with luscious brown curls falling down her back. She gave a graceful curtsy to the King and Queen and smiled at the princess. The prince, bowed down,

“My King, Queen,” he looked up with gleaming, familiar green eyes, “princess Ginevra.”

A slow, smile spread on Ginny’s lips. _A peasant! In the castle! And her parents thought he was a prince!_ The princess wanted to laugh at how stupid her parents were, but instead she just curtsied,

“Pleasure to meet you, my prince.”

“Oh this is wonderful!” Queen Molly clapped her hands, “we shall have a feast at once, you two do look like you haven’t been eating properly. Do they feed you in, what was it…?”

“Grimmauld,” Hermione supplied quickly,

“Ah yes, do they feed you in Grimmauld? Oh no matter,” the woman smiled kindly and then wrapped her arms around Harry’s and Hermione’s waists, gently leading them towards the dining room, “Prince Dudley  and you Ginny, dear, you shall wed next week, and you princess Mafalda,” Molly turned to Hermione, “you shall wed my youngest son – Ronald.”

“What?” Ron squeaked, blushing. Hermione sent Harry a panicked look but he was too busy staring at Ginny to notice.

“…now, Dudley-” Arthur butted in, following behind the three with the rest of his sons,

“Oh please,” a slow smile spread on Harry’s lips, “call me son.”

↮

“ _Call me son_?!” Draco spluttered, crossing his arms over his chest as Harry hummed happily, dancing around the room like some _girl_ , “seriously? You really are pathetic…”

“Oh shut it Malfoy,” Harry hushed him, his green eyes twinkling from the light coming from the bedside lamp, “You’re just jealous.”

“J-Jealous!” Malfoy squeaked, face turning bright red, _did he know…_

“Jealous that I have found the love of my life, and you’re stuck in some pendant,” Harry said meanly, not even looking at the blonde. Something tugged at the genie’s heart and he turned away. Harry was right – he was just a servant, a slave, and after Harry’s three wishes were over, he’d be back in some cave, forgotten for another millennium.

“Whatever Street Rat,” Draco said without any bite, “I’ll be in the pendant when you decide your next wish.”

Harry didn’t seem to hear him as he twirled the magic carpet around the gorgeous room he was given, filled with the latest technology, a Jacuzzi and a lone pendant on the desk.

↮

Harry couldn’t sleep.

“I want to see her again,” he sighed softly. He imagine a soft, pale hand in his, sparkling eyes…, “I _need_ to see her again.”

Harry sat up in bed, pulled on a jacket, grabbed the carpet and the pendant, and zoomed out of his window. For a minute Harry wanted to laugh out loud, the whole world was stretched out before him, the wind was whipping his face, he felt free, he felt wonderful…unconsciously, his hand tightened on his pendant and then Draco was in front of him, bleary eyed in flannel pyjamas with his hair is disarray.

“What?!” he snapped, but Harry didn’t notice his tone. He threw his arms around Draco without thinking about it, but his arms came away with nothing, as if the genie wasn’t there. Something went cold inside the raven’s heart when he saw the blonde’s pained expression,

“I-I’m sorry Malfoy, a-are you alright?”

“Fine,” Draco hissed, “now why are we up here?!” he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I wanted to see Ginny…,” Harry admitted, but suddenly he didn’t really want to. He wanted to make sure that his genie was okay.

The carpet landed softly in the bushes beneath Ginny’s balcony. A reading light was on in her room.

“Well, what are you going to say to her?” Draco prompted, as Harry only stared at him. The raven blinked,

“Err…I don’t know,” Harry shrugged a shoulder and looked nervous, “I’ve never really…flirted with anyone before.”

Draco sighed, but got more comfortable on the carpet, sitting crossed legged opposite the other boy.

“Just…say something nice…to me,” Draco started, “and pretend I’m her,” he added quickly, trying to hide his distaste. Harry stared at him for a second, and his gaze was so intense that Draco had to turn away, picking at the grass next to him, “well?” he asked softly, his hair hiding his blush.

“You’re very…punctual?” Harry offered and winced. Draco couldn’t help but let a burst of laughter escape his lungs. Harry glared at him,

“Don’t laugh at me, Malfoy,” he said, but he also smiled. It was good to hear the genie laugh.

“Okay, how about ‘you look beautiful, Ginny,’ or something like that,” Draco said in between giggles. Harry stared at him again, a content smile on his face,

“You look beautiful, Draco,” he whispered. Then blinked abruptly at flushed red as Draco’s eyes went wide, “I-I mean G-Ginny, oh God, now you’re confusing me…” he backtracked quickly. Draco sighed and clicked his fingers. A walkie-talkie and an ear piece appeared in his hand, he passed the ear piece to Harry.

“Put it in. I’ll tell you what to do,” he said casually. Harry quickly told his hormones to calm down at the suggestion, which could’ve meant something else entirely… The raven stuck the ear piece into his ear. Draco nodded, satisfied, and rolled off the carpet, “Go get her then.”

Harry smiled at him and the genie even managed a weak thumbs up sign, before Harry was being raised on the carpet up to the balcony.

“Ginny!” he called.

“Harry?” the girl asked, coming out, dressed in a short black lace dress and stockings, a coy smile on her red-painted lips, “I thought you might come,” she purred. Harry was completely thrown off his groove,

“I…um…,” static sounded in his ear and then the impatient voice of Draco,

“ _Tell her she looks nice_!” he commanded.

“You look nice!” Harry said quickly. Ginny smirked,

“You don’t look so bad yourself, prince,” she licked her lips. Harry felt something stir deep inside him,

“ _Oh shit I think she wants to have sex with you!”_ Draco hissed into his ear.

“How about you come inside, eh?” Ginny offered, “and then we could…talk…a bit more…,” Harry hadn’t noticed when the girl had gotten close and now she ran a nail down his chest.

“ _Harry don’t-“_

The raven boy pulled out the earpiece and threw it discreetly over the balcony, and then smirked, following the princess inside.

Draco stared at the broken ear piece at his feet and glared at it, through the tears that gathered in his grey eyes. Harry was upstairs and he was about to- he didn’t want to think about it, but _his_ Harry…

The carpet pressed a comforting corner to Draco’s shoulder, but the boy shrugged it off,

“Goodnight, carpet,” he sniffed, and then disappeared into his pendant.

↮

Hermione found the pendant laying on the carpet by the balcony an hour later. She quickly rubbed it, summoning Draco.

“What?!” the blonde snapped, eyes rimmed in red. He took a double take when he saw Hermione, “Mione?” he asked. The girl nodded and frowned,

“Have you been crying?” she asked,

“What? N-No,” Draco rubbed his eyes, “I was sleeping…”

“Okayyy…,” Hermione glanced around, “Where’s Harry?”

“Upstairs,” Draco sniffed, looking angrily at his bare feet, “fucking _his_ princess…”

“Oh, Draco,” Hermione said softly, reaching out to him,

“Don’t,” he pulled away, and then added more softly, “don’t.”

“Draco, if there’s something I can do-”

“There’s nothing,” the boy said quickly, “but perhaps there’s something that I could do for _you_. What would you like? Gold? Dresses? To end world hunger?”

Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip,

“Well…I’d like to know what Prince Weasley is like,” she said suddenly. Draco grimaced,

“Alright,” he offered her his hand. She tried to take it but was meant with air, her hand passing through Draco’s skin. But just like that the two were teleported to the stables. Ron Weasley was sitting, still in his day clothes, on a pile of hay with a boy with crooked teeth who was brushing a horses mane.

“…I just don’t know, Neville,” the ginger sighed, a cat curled in his lap, “I mean she’s beautiful…obviously, but I don’t know anything else about her, I don’t know what she’s like, if she likes cats or dogs, what her favourite colour is, what her first car was…”

“Just get to know her,” the other boy, Neville, lisped, “She must be wonderful. She must be a princess after all.”

“Princess or not,” Ron closed his eyes, “she might still hate me. You know how I am.”

“Yeah,” Neville snorted, “You prefer animals over people and you’re horrible at cooking and basically anything needed in life, like maths. But you’re a good guy Ron, a really good guy.”

“Thanks, Nev.”

Draco clicked his fingers. Before Hermione appeared hundreds of images – a tiny Ron crying because his parents forgot about him at the park, the boy riding his first pony, bandaging a cats tail, screaming at his older brothers, punching a boy in the street, tripping in front of the pope, blushing when he talked to a girl…

“You should get to know him,” Draco said when they apparated back under Ginny’s balcony. Hermione nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. Draco sighed,

“Where is that stupid four eyed idiot?” he grumbled. Hermione frowned, looking up,

“Ginny’s light is off.”

“Maybe…M-Maybe he’s cuddling with her,” Draco offered through a tight throat, “Spending the night…”

“Maybe,” Hermione shrugged.

Then the sense hit Draco – something wasn’t right. The carpet was gone. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and read Harry’s thoughts, afraid of what he might see or feel – afraid he’d feel the love the raven had for the princess.

Instead he saw darkness, and felt fear. Harry was wrapped up in something and was being carried away.

“He’s in danger!” Draco gasped. He and Hermione reached for each other at the same time, and were apparating before their fingers ‘touched.’

↮

Harry didn’t even know how it happened. One second the carpet was picking him up off the balcony, and he was looking for his genie, and then suddenly there were hands. They grabbed him and pushed a bag over his head, he tried to scream but he passed out from something inside the bag. He woke up when he was being carried. The wind was whistling around him and it was cold, but Harry felt drowsy, his hands were tied, he couldn’t breathe or speak or see…

The hood was pulled off of him and he came face to face with Quirrel, one of the king’s men.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Harry croaked and coughed. Quirrel slowly undid his turban and then he turned around so Harry could see the back of his head. Or at least what was _meant_ to be the back of his head. Instead the raven boy was facing another face, this one less human, pale and disgusting, looking at Harry lifelessly,

“Harry Potter,” It hissed, sounding like a snake.

“What do you want?” the boy yelled. The face laughed, it was all very grotesque.

“You don’t know my name, but I know yours,” the face laughed, “and I want something you have.”

“Ginny?!” Harry exclaimed, and fought against the hands holding him, “don’t you dare touch her-”

“Oh quiet!” the face snapped, “The princess if part of my plan, yes, but mostly I want the thing you _already_ have. You don’t have Ginny yet – not before you marry.”

“Then what do I have?” Harry asked, tired and defeated. The face laughed again. All the other men wore skeleton-masks and Harry didn’t recognise them,

“You have the pendant,” the thing’s eyes lit up at that and Harry’s heart gave a painful tug.

“Don’t you dare do anything to him,” he gasped, “Don’t touch _my_ Draco.”

Quirrel whirled around and grasped Harry’s chin, leaving bruises. The boy winced,

“Where is it?!” Quirrel hissed, “Where’s the pendant?!”

“I won’t fucking tell you,” Harry spat.

“Kill him!” the face at the back of the man’s head rasped out. One of the men pointed a gun at Harry,

“No,” Quirrel smiled slowly, “make it more…painful. Throw him off the cliff.”

“What-”Harry started and then he was falling. His stomach came to his throat as his world flipped upside down. The wind tried to keep him up, but he was too much for it and he continued falling, the sky and the sea blurring into one. Harry’s head spun, he couldn’t catch his breath, he was terrified, he wanted to see Draco, make sure he was okay…

The raven plunged head first into the sea, and his whole body was engulfed in freezing icy coldness. His body went numb instantly, he fought against his restrains, but his head felt like lead, dragging him down, his lungs struggled for air but all he got was water…

 _This is how I die,_ Harry thought, _I wish I could’ve told Draco that he was free…I wish I could’ve told him that I-_

The world went dark.

↮

“Oh God!” Hermione sobbed as she and Draco arrived, in time to see Harry’s body being hurled over the cliff, “Is he dead?!” she screamed at Draco, who was staring emptily at the depths below him, “Draco! Is he dead?!”

“I don’t know,” the genie said numbly.

“Bring him up. Bring him up,” Hermione yelled at him, “I wish for you to bring his body up.”

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and snapped his fingers. A drenched, cold body of Harry appeared next to them.

“No…,” Hermione whispered. Draco’s eyes were still closed. Harry didn’t move…

The girl began frantically pressing her hands over the boy’s heart and then pushing their mouths together, forcing him to take her air, over and over and over. Draco was crying silently, so helpless, because he couldn’t bring the dead back, he couldn’t even touch Harry…

And then the raven suddenly spluttered out water and took a desperate gasp for air. Draco’s eyes flew open, and he saw Harry gagging and clawing at his chest, sitting up. Hermione’s expression brightened up.

“Oh my God, Harry you’re alive!” she gasped. Draco snapped his fingers and all the pain in Harry’s chest disappeared. The only thing that remained was his soaked clothes, clinging to his lithe, muscular form…Draco’s thoughts betrayed him.

“Quirrel that bastard,” Harry growled, voice a but hoarse. The three packed themselves onto the carpet and it took them back all the way to the palace, where after loads of hugs, Hermione finally retreated to her room, after making sure Harry was okay.

Draco and Harry awkwardly stood in their, kind of, shared room.

“Soo…thank you,” the raven said, “for saving me.”

Draco shrugged one shoulder,

“It was Hermione’s wish.”

“Still,” Harry reached for the boy, but then dropped his hand, “thank you.”

Draco bit his lip, blushing like mad and focusing on his feet. He couldn’t stand it – the way Harry stared at him with that fiery gaze. It was meant for Ginny, he should be looking like that at his princess, not at him…

“How was it?” Draco blurted. Harry raised an eyebrow,

“What? The drowning? Pretty shit,” he admitted.

“No you idiot,” Draco frowned, “t-the sex.”

Harry laughed,

“It  was okay.”

“Just okay?” Draco inquired. Harry turned his back to the blonde and pulled his damp shirt off, giving the genie a perfect view of his tanned back,

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

↮

Ginny’s plan was going perfectly. She knew that she basically had Harry around her finger, after the amazing night they had together. She would marry him, and then reveal that he was just a lowly street rat to her parents. They would have no choice but to let her wed whoever she wanted after she divorced Harry, anyone was  better than a street rat…

The door to her room opened as she was pulling on her dress. Her parents came in, with weird blank expressions on their faces, followed by a gleeful Quirrel. Ginny frowned,

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Ginevra,” Arthur started hollowly, “you will marry Quirrel tomorrow.”

Ginny blinked at him,

“What?” she scoffed, “No way! I’m marrying Ha-Dudley!”

“He is no longer…available,” Quirrel said. Ginny didn’t notice the wand in his hand that was trained on her parents, “therefore you and I will marry.”

“Hell no! I’m not letting my plan go to shit because of you, you horny, old bastard-”

“Who said I’m not available?” Harry asked suddenly, stepping into the room, Draco’s pendant around his neck, and Hermione right behind him.

“Y-You?!” Quirrel spluttered.

“Tell them the truth, Quirrel!” Harry yelled, “you tried to murder me!”

“What?!” Quirrel laughed and turned to the King and Queen, “T-That is l-lies!”

“Lies,” King Arthur nodded, “obviously lies.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Hermione growled, stepped towards Quirrel and snapped his wand in half. The charm broke, and as the man stared at the remains of his power on the floor, the King and Queen blinked.

“What’s going on?” Queen Molly asked, confused.

“Mother!” Ginny grasped her hands, “Quirrel tried to murder H-Dudley!”

King Arthur whirled on his servant,

“Quirrel, is that right?” he asked in a hard voice.

“O-Of course not!” Quirrel put on his best puppy-dog face. The King nodded,

“Then you won’t have anything against a bit of Veritaserum so we can make sure-”

“B-But your majesty, is that r-really necessary?” Quirrel asked, looking terrified.

“No buts,” the Queen said. Quirrel angrily pulled off his turban and threw it at the wall. He revealed his other face to the king and queen, who gasped and stumbled back, shielding Ginny.

“ _Voldemort_!” Molly hissed.

“Give me the pendant!” the face hissed, and Quirrel lurched for Harry, who stepped back just in time. Suddenly Molly pulled out a wand,

“Not my son-in-law you piece of shit!” she yelled, pointing it at Quirrel.

The two yelled spells at the same time, and Quirrel disappeared, just as Molly’s spell hit the opposite wall. The room was silent, and then Ginny threw herself at Harry.

“Oh my prince,” she kissed him all over his face, “you saved me!”

Harry gently pushed her away,

“Your mother saved you,” he offered, smiling softly and tucking a piece of Ginny’s hair behind her ear, “You should be thanking her,” his other hand was protectively curled around his pendant.

“Now Harry,” Arthur smiled gently, “we owe you a debt.”

↮

“They want to make me the king,” Harry murmured, leaning his forearms against the balustrade of his balcony. Draco sat on the balustrade cross legged, not caring if he were to fall or not, facing Harry’s room, “Bill wasn’t angry. None of the boys were…well, except for Percy. But none of them wanted to be king.”

“Don’t you want to be king?” Draco asked, and rolled his eyes, “the might Potter even more mighty.”

“What will happen to you,” Harry asked, “after I free you?”

Draco shrugged and closed his eyes against the slight breeze,

“Don’t worry about me. Your life is going to be great – you’ll have your amazing wife and you’ll be king. Hermione will always be with you, you won’t ever be poor again,” he opened his silver eyes, “Isn’t that what you wanted.”

“It is but…,” Harry sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, “will I ever see you again?”

“Why would you want to see me again you git?” Draco scoffed. Harry smirked,

“You’re right I hate you, dumbass,” Harry said fondly. Draco looked like he was waiting for something,

“And…?” he prompted. Harry frowned,

“And?”

“And where’s the line ‘Draco I wish for you to be free?’” The blonde asked, annoyed. Harry sighed again and looked away. “What?” Draco asked, “Harry what? What is it?! Are those few words too hard for you?!”

“I’m sorry, Draco. I just…I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Draco jumped down from the railing and stood in front of Harry. The raven was a good half a head taller than him, and it made Draco wince, “just say the damn words, Potter. You promised.”

“I can’t do it,” Harry stepped through him, “I’m  going to be king now. I need you.”

“No you don’t!” Draco said desperately, running up to him, “You did it! You won! You don’t need me anymore!”

“Yes I do. I’ll always need you,” Harry said softly, and something in Draco melted.

“B-But,” he whispered, “You can’t do this to me.”

“Come on, is spending time with me really that bad?” Harry asked, trying to lighten the mood. Draco didn’t smile,

“You don’t get it!” he said, “You get to spent your life with the one you love, have children, grown old, have the simple pleasures of life like eating and sleeping in a _real_ bed and making love and…and,” there were tears in the genie’s silver eyes, “and all I get is years of loneliness and misery where nobody can touch me or love me, and I get to watch you be happy, knowing that I _can’t_. I can’t be happy Harry,” Draco looked at him pleadingly, “not unless you set me free!”

Harry stared at Draco, so close to tears, and it was his fault. His Draco was hurting, because of him. But he couldn’t say it, the words wouldn’t leave his throat.

“I’m sorry.” Harry turned to go.

“ _Let me go, Harry_.” Draco yelled after him, but the raven slammed the door shut. Draco collapsed on the floor, sobbing like the day he found out the prize for his happiness was eternal imprisonment.

↮

Harry was walking through the gardens, but he couldn’t find a place for himself. It was meant to be so easy – get a girl, marry her, never return to the streets. Make a better life for himself and Hermione.

And then Draco came along, and ruined everything.

Harry sat with his head in his hands. _Why does he have to be so infuriating?_ He asked himself and then sighed, _because he’s Draco Malfoy that’s why._ He reminded himself.

Hermione came and sat next to him.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” she asked. Harry shrugged. “What is it Harry? I’ve never seen you this sad, not even when we were starving.”

“I…I…,” Harry took a deep breath, “I told Draco that I can’t set him free.”

“Harry-” Hermione’s eyes widened.

“No.” Harry snapped, “I can’t. You don’t understand. He can’t leave, I can’t do this without him. I don’t think I really love Ginny, I don’t want to marry her, not now. I want it to stay like this – me and you and Draco, but he wants to go,” Harry was crying now, “h-he wants to l-leave me ‘Mione. I-I don’t want him t-to go, I-I can’t s-stand him not being w-with me…”

Hermione wrapped her arms around her friend and pulled him to her. Just like all those cold nights when the two clung to each other because the winter threatened to take one of them away in its icy clutches, they now hanged onto each other in warm gardens, dressed in silk robes, with their hearts slowly shattering.

“I hate the palace.” Hermione admitted, “I want to get out.”

“What about Ron?” Harry asked.

“He said he’d like to come with us,” Hermione blushed, “we…talked.”

Harry forced a smile,

“That’s great.”

“And Draco?” Hermione asked.

“I think I love him,” Harry whispered.

“You know what they say,” Hermione said sadly, “If you love someone, let them go. If they love you too, they’ll come back.”

“You’re right,” Harry said, with that weird sense of sad happiness. He decided to break it off with Ginny first. Sure the girl was beautiful…but that was about it. After the initial excitement of meeting someone form a different background, the two didn’t have much in common. And the sex was…okay. Harry knew that he didn’t love the princess and he didn’t want to lead her on and break her heart – he decided that telling her was best.

He knocked on the girl’s door, but the only answer he got was a giggle and a sigh. Harry frowned,

“Ginny?” he asked and stepped inside. The princess gasped and covered her naked body with the sheet, a man who had been lying next to her jumped to his feet and jumped out of the balcony, climbing down. Harry stared and blinked as the ginger quickly pulled on a shirt,

“Harry, baby, it’s not like that-” she started. Harry wasn’t even heart broken, he was just…disgusted. He stepped away from the girl who came towards him, tears in her eyes, “Harry I didn’t want to do it, he forced me to…”

She reached for him, but he just grabbed her hands and pushed her away, gently but firmly.

“I came to tell you that the wedding is off. I don’t love you.”

Ginny stared at him,

“What?!” she demanded, then her voice softened, “Harry don’t let this…incident, get in between us, please. I love you.”

“You don’t love me, if you loved me you wouldn’t have slept with that man,” Harry said simply.

“Harry please! We can fix this!”

“There’s nothing to fix,” Harry said firmly, “I don’t love you. I love Draco.”

“ _Draco?!_ ” Ginny spat, “That blonde piece of shit?!”

“Don’t say that about him!” Harry snapped, “I thought you’d understand.”

Ginny laughed cruelly,

“You know you can never have him right? He’s a genie you can’t touch him, you’ll have an eternity of just looking at him,” she hissed, “and if you set him free, he’ll leave you. You know he will. You’re replacing an eternity with me for _just looking._ ”

“I’d much rather look at him then have sex with you,” Harry said angrily. Ginny blinked at him, “I’ll take my things. And ‘Mione’s. Goodbye, Ginny, and no, I’m not sorry.” Harry said, and turned on his heel, walking out of the room.

“No!” Ginny ran after him, but the boy strode on, “You have to help me with my plan!” At this point they were out in the garden, and the raven stopped abruptly.

“What plan?” he demanded. Ginny didn’t even look guilty,

“Never mind,” she said, “you’re not worth it anyway-”

A loud pop sounded and Quirrel apparated in the middle of the courtyard. Ginny and Harry blinked at him,

“You!” Harry yelled, “What are you doing here?!”

Quirrel laughed, and so did the face at the back of his head. Hermione sprinted out of the castle with all the Weasley’s in tow,

“Harry!” she screamed, “he has Draco!”

“What?” Harry asked, and looked at the man. Indeed, there was Draco’s pendant around his neck. He stole him, “Let him go! Let him go, you bastard!” Harry demanded. Quirrel just laughed and his other face hissed,

“You think I _stole_ him? Oh no, he came with me himself, all nice and willing.” He laughed again, and rubbed the pendant with his thin, pale fingers. The stone spun in the air and Harry’s stomach dropped. Draco appeared in the silver mist, head hung low, hands in fists.

“Draco?” Harry asked gently, stepping towards him.

“You promised,” Draco whispered, shaking with anger, “you promised to free me. You lied to me.”

“Draco I’m sorry! It was in the heat of the moment, I’ll free you, I promise-”

“Liar!” Draco yelled and looked up, his grey eyes stormy. Quirrel laughed again,

“He has a new master now – a master who will truly give him what he wants. He will be free, after you are all dead.”

Hermione pulled Harry backwards.

“What is your wish, master?” Draco asked, not looking at Harry.

“I wish,” the face spoke. Quirrel looked panicked all of a sudden, “to be rid of this mortal body and take on my true form.”

“Master please no-” Quirrel whimpered. Draco clicked his fingers. Quirrel’s body fell away, blood and bone and meat melting into the earth quickly. Ginny screamed and several people gasped, everyone stepped back. Standing in front of them was a pale, tall man, dressed in black robes. He didn’t have a nose, only two slits on his ashy face, and snake-like eyes. His lipless mouth pulled into a smile,

“Much better,” he said, and turned to the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione, “My name is Lord Voldemort, and you shall call me the dark lord. Follow me and you will be powerful, take my mark,” he revealed his pale wrist, and the skull and snake tattoo there, “and no harm shall come your way. Defy me and my little genie here,” Draco flinched, “will turn you into dust.”

“I can’t kill them,” Draco protested,

“Silence!” the Dark Lord demanded and turned to the people in front of him, “Now what will be your answer?!”

Queen Molly was the first to step forward, a determined look on his face,

“Never.”

She raised her wand,

“ _Kill her_ ,”  Voldemort commanded. Draco looked at Harry pleadingly, but the Raven wouldn’t meet his eye. He was staring at the ground, holding Hermione’s hand comfortingly.

“I _can’t_!”

“Molly Weasley,” Voldemort hissed, “bow down to me!”

He swiped his hand and all of the Weasley’s fell to their knees, except for Molly and Ron. The boy ran over to Hermione and pulled her behind him. Now he and Harry were protecting her,

“Mom, don’t-” Ron started,

“I will never bow down to you!” the Queen spat. Voldemort tutted,

“Why does that not surprise me?” he asked, “If you won’t bow down to me then you will bow down to God. Genie I wish for you to make me the one and only God!” the dark lord screamed. Draco trembled, but he couldn’t say no, and with a wave of his hand, Voldemort’s eyes flashed gold. Experimentally, the dark lord raised his hand and casually flicked his wrist. The castle was sent flying, up and up, until it disappeared in the atmosphere. Seconds later there was a loud crash and the earth shook. Voldemort laughed,

“What did you do?!” Harry demanded.

“Oh, nothing really,” Voldemort smiled slyly, “I just broke the moon.”

“You what?!” Hermione gaped at him. The warm day suddenly changed into a freezing night, and dark as well – where the moon was supposed to be, was a black hole. The world’s light was snuffed out. Screams sounded from the city, the only light coming from the garden lamps.

“Beware me!” Voldemort yelled, “For here come the endless nights and the cold years. Here comes the eternity of my rule and if you don’t follow me you will all die like bugs!”

Smoke filtered in from the heavens, and men appeared all around Voldemort, men in skull masks. They bowed down.

“Stop it!” Hermione screamed, “Stop it!”

Ron held her in his arms and Harry stepped forward, looking at Draco pleadingly.

“Draco, please…”

There were tears in the blonde’s eyes and he was trembling,

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he whispered, “I can’t do anything.”

“And neither can you!” Voldemort laughed at Harry. With a flick of his hand, he sent the raven boy, Hermione and Ron into the little tower that still stood in the garden. The carpet went with them, “Goodbye, irrelevant muggles!” the dark lord yelled and then the tower was sailing through the air.

↮

The tower hit the water with a groan, and cracks appeared in its marble walls.

“Oh my God,” Hermione gasped as water began to seep in. She, Harry and Ron clambered out of the little window and got up on top of it.

“What now!?” Ron asked desperately. The tower was slowly sinking into the dark depths of the water. The trio could barely see anything, the only light coming from the stars that still flickered in the sky.

“I-I don’t know,” Harry whispered, “This is my fault, if I had set him free…”

“This isn’t the time,” Hermione snapped, “how do we get out of here?!”

“W-What’s that?” Ron asked, pointing. A wave of…dark, was coming their way, slowly forming.

“A tsunami,” Hermione’s mouth went dry, “there is a tsunami heading for Britain, because the earth had lost its sense of gravity, the moon is gone and…”

“Oh God! What now?!” Harry buried his face in his hands. He didn’t care about the stupid wave or stupid Britain, as selfish as it sounded, he only cared about _his_ Draco. Something soft rubbed against his arm. Harry looked up and his face brightened,

“Carpet!” he exclaimed. The carpet flew up happily, “Guys! Come on! We have to go and save Draco!” he clambered on.

“And my family!” Ron agreed and pulled himself up. The two offered their hands to Hermione and pulled her upwards,

“And warn people about the wave!” she added.

“That too.” Harry and Ron said at the same time, and grinned at each other. They all hanged onto each other as the carpet sped up, and the tower disappeared beneath the waves.

↮

The Weasley’s were stuck in the cold, dark dungeons, shackled to the walls, not saying a word, when Draco appeared.

“I’m so sorry!” he said. Ginny looked at him in disgust,

“This is your fault,” she said with venom. Molly glared at her and then looked softly at Draco,

“It’s not your fault, dear. You just made a bad decision, but no matter now,” she said, “tell us how we can fix this.”

Draco ran a hand through his hair with desperation,

“There’s no way to fix this,” he gasped, “the only way…it would be if someone took the pendant back, and wished it all away. But with Voldemort as God…there is no way,” he looked at the Weasley’s pleadingly, “I’m so sorry.”

“Maybe if-” Draco started, but then he disappeared, and appeared in front of Voldemort. He was at the head of a large table, where all of his followers, that he called ‘Deatheaters’ sat.

“Master,” Draco said hollowly.

“What were you doing?” Voldemort demanded, and then smiled before Draco could reply, “Don’t bother answering. I am God. I am all-knowing. You were talking to those Weasley’s.”

“I-I meant no harm, Master…”

“Don’t lie to me!” with a swipe of his hand, an invisible hand somehow managed to struck Draco. The boy, who hadn’t felt touch in thousands of years, was thrown backwards, awestruck and horrified. A red mark bloomed on his pale cheek, “If you ever lie to me again, I swear I will find a way to kill you,” he hissed. Draco scrambled to his feet, his hand touching his cheek gently.

“Y-Yes master,” he stuttered, bowed, and disappeared.

He appeared in a room and cast a spell under his breath, to prevent even Voldemort from sensing him out. He didn’t have the power to bring Harry back, and tears welled up in his eyes. The boy was probably dead now, because of him. Draco started crying, curling up against the wall, a hand on his stinging cheek. The first time someone touched him, and it was to mock and hurt him.

Something fell in through the window and Draco’s head snapped up. Harry, Ron, Hermione and the Carpet landed on the floor in a tangled heap.

“Ron get your fucking elbow out of my ribs!” Harry grumbled.

“Harry!?” Draco stumbled to his feet.

“Hi,” Harry offered him a weak smile, and brushed himself off as Ron and Hermione struggled to their feet.

“How did you-”

“Carpet,” Harry said simply, suddenly looking away from Draco. He was angry, the blonde could tell, he couldn’t even look at him and it fucking _hurt,_ “Let’s go beat Voldemort.”

“You can’t!” Draco protested, standing in front of the doors, “He’ll kill you. You can’t beat him.”

Harry stood in front of the blonde, face emotionless.

“Move, _Malfoy_.”

“No,” Draco said stubbornly. Harry stepped through him and opened the door, leaving. Draco stood there with a pained expression, hand involuntarily coming to his heart. Hermione looked at him gently,

“We have to try,” she said, “at least try.”

Draco let them through.

↮

Harry stormed into the room, Ron and Hermione in tow. All the Deatheaters jumped to their feet, and Voldemort calmly stood up.

“Didn’t die did you?” he seethed, “thought as much. But the fun is about to begin.” He smiled, “kill them,” he commanded his followers.

The Deatheaters stormed forward, wands in tow. Harry, Ron and Hermione backed up and Voldemort laughed.

“Can’t have you fighting with nothing, can we?” Wands appeared in each of the human’s hands. Harry stared at his quizzically.

“What now?” Ron asked Hermione, staring at his.

“DUCK!” Hermione yelled, jumping sideways behind a marble statue of Voldemort, Ron and Harry following just as red and green curses began to fly. Hermione peeked from behind the statue, and quickly hid again, the side of her face singed, breathing hard.

“Do you guys know any spells?”

Ron and Harry shook their heads. Marble Voldemort’s arm broke off and hit the floor, smashing into a million pieces. Draco materialised in front of the trio, he looked at Hermione,

“Expelliarmus,” he said. Without a word Hermione peeked out from behind the statue and repeated the word. A wand hit the floor, barely hearable over the havoc in the room. Ron followed in Hermione’s footsteps and said the spell,

“Alarte Ascendare. Bombarda Maxima,” Harry repeated this spell and a whole wall was blown out by a sudden explosion, taking a few Deatheaters with it, “Sectumsempra, stupefy, ventus duo,” the blonde genie continued firing off charms, and the trio repeated them, over and over, until the room fell eerily silent. Harry, Ron and Hermione peeked out from behind the statue. Dust and smoke covered the remains of the marble floor, two of the walls were gone, so was the table. Bodies lay among the rubble. Voldemort was the only one still standing, his black cloak immaculate. He started clapping slowly, the sound echoing back at the teens who slowly came out,

“Bravo,” Voldemort cackled.

“You knew they were going to die!” Hermione screamed, “You knew they wouldn’t make it and yet you sent them off to be killed! Why?! WHY?!”

“Why?” Voldemort laughed coldly, “for my entertainment. You’re right, I did know they would die, I am the most powerful, after all.”

“No you’re not.” Harry said quietly. Everyone turned to look at him.

“What?” The Dark Lord hissed.

“You’re not the most powerful,” Harry said, looking right at him, “Draco is more powerful than you.”

A slow, terrifying smile appeared on Voldemort’s face.

“You are right, Harry Potter,” he said, “He is more powerful than me,” Voldemort turned to the Draco, who backed away fearfully, “Genie. My final wish is for you to make me the most powerful genie of all time.”

Draco bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. A mighty bang sounded and then a whirlwind surrounded Voldemort. And he grew. He broke through the ceiling and continued growing, his skin turned green, his eyes red, his tounge became forked. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco ran outside and watched Voldemort tower over them and laugh and laugh and laugh.

“What now?” The Dark Lord called, “I am the most powerful. You are just ants, ants I can squeeze!”

“You’re forgetting something!” Harry smirked. Voldemort frowned,

“What? What am I forgetting?” he hissed.

“Now you’re a genie. And I am your master,” Harry picked up the notebook that Voldemort came from. The genie’s eyes widened, “I have a wish, genie.”

Voldemort’s eyes widened and Harry smiled,

“I want you to disappear, die, I want you to destroy yourself.”

“What! B-But-” a screech came from Voldemort as he began clawing at his face, and he melted into dark fog, taking off into the distance. Black blood sipped out of the notebook, and just like that, it was over.

Silence settled over the four teenagers.

“What now?” Hermione breathed in the cold, night air. It was dark, a faint glow coming from Draco.  Harry was tired of that question – _What now? What now? What now?_ He didn’t know. The world was destroyed around him.

Hermione came up close to Draco, and took a deep breath,

“Draco,” she said softly, “as my last wish I want you to fix the palace and the city and the world, I want you to return the moon. I want everything to stand the way it was before.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Draco whispered and clapped his hands. The sun rose in the sky and then  began its slow descent, as if time didn’t stop. The moon slowly appeared high above them, the palace rebuilt itself, brick by brick, and so did the city. In the matter of seconds it was as if Voldemort never got a hold of the pendant.

Harry picked it up from the grass and held it in his hand. Ron spun Hermione around and the two laughed,

“Come on, we need to free your family!” the girl laughed and pulled Ron along. They ran into the new palace, and Harry and Draco were left in the courtyard alone, with the sun setting.

Harry turned the pendant in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Draco choked out. Hugging himself. To his surprise Harry looked at him softly,

“It was my fault. I freed you.”

Draco shrugged one shoulder, looking at the palace,

“Whatever. It’s your wish.”

“What happened to your cheek?” Harry asked gently. Draco subconsciously reached up and touched it with his hand,

“It doesn’t matter,” he said quickly. There were tears in his silver eyes and Harry knew that the genie didn’t want him to see them, “Y-You should say your wish now. I want to go to sleep.”

Harry stepped closer to Draco. The blonde blinked at him, surprised. Harry leaned forward, hand hovering inches from Draco’s, lips close to his ear.

“I wish for you to be free, Draco,” he whispered. Draco froze,

“W-What?” he stuttered. Harry pulled away, and he was smiling,

“You’re free.” He said again, and took Draco’s hands in his own, intertwining his fingers. Their first touch was electrifying, Draco’s hands were cold and small in Harry’s. The ex-genie stared at them for a second, so real, so warm, and they were really touching him and _he could feel._

The Pendant lay broken on the floor, forgotten. Draco’s silver eyes were wide as he hesitantly reached up to curl his hand into the dirty fabric of Harry’s shirt. It was soft against his hand. Then he reached up and touched Harry’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. He brushed some dirt from the raven’s skin, and without warning launched himself at the boy, wrapping his arms around the boy’s shoulders. Harry caught him easily and pulled him near, one arm wrapped around the blonde’s waist the other resting on his upper back.

Draco _broke._ He started crying out all the pain and suffering he endured over all his years, the loneliness, the helplessness. He cried for all the wishes that came true. All of the wishes that came true except his, all the people that fell in love except him. But now it was different. Now he was free, his one true wish came to life, and the boy he was in love with had him in his arms, and Draco was currently soaking up his shirt with tears.

“Gosh, I’m s-sorry,” the blonde muttered, embarrassed, and stepped away from Harry, sliding away from his embrace, and wiping his tears angrily on his sleeve. Harry gently rested his hands on Draco’s hips and then he leaned down and pressed their lips together.

Draco was so startled that his eyes went wide and his heartbeat sped up, but after the initial shock, his eyelids fluttered shut but his heartbeat was still through the roof because Harry was kissing him. He was really kissing him, and Draco was fucking hopeless and he didn’t know what to do. Harry gently pulled away, looking at Draco and smiling softly,

“Hey it’s okay,” he said, pulling the blonde a little bit closer. He pressed a soft kiss to Draco’s jaw and then lower and lower, peppering his suddenly heated skin with feather light kisses. When Draco gasped Harry pulled back up and captured his lips again. This time Draco willed himself to relax and let one of his hands rest on Harry’s cheek, the other curling into his shirt. Harry smiled into the kiss and nibbled on Draco’s lower lip, the ex-genie gasped again and Harry took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. And Draco _melted_ against him, moaning quietly as he felt his every nerve catch fire. His arms slid from their places in favour of wrapping around Harry’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer. The blonde mewled into the raven’s hot mouth, hands sliding into his hair.

When the two finally pulled apart, the sun had disappeared and the moon was shining down on them along with the stars. Celebration took place down in the city, bright with lights and loud with music. The castle was also ablaze, laughter escaping through the windows, but nobody disturbed Harry or Draco.

The blonde looked away from Harry, shyly, flushed red, his lips swollen, eyes glazed. Harry gently took his chin in his strong hand and turned Draco to face him.

“I love you.”

Draco ducked his head, cheeks heating up even more but Harry forced him to look at him again.

“Draco I love you,” he repeated softly, “and I’m sorry I made you hurt.”

“Harry, don’t-” Draco tried to pull away but Harry had a strong hold on him.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He said again, punctuating each word with a kiss to Draco’s lips. The boy was too dazed to do much more than to cling onto Harry.

“I-I j-just…,” he started, “I love you t-too.” Draco’s voice cracked. Everything was a sudden, though not unpleasant, assault on his senses. After so many years his body was burning with desire and he was scared he’d catch fire, and all of these confessions were making the blonde’s stomach flip and his heartbeat speed up…

Harry could sense Draco’s fear and uncertainty. He took the blonde’s hand in his and gently kissed it, causing Draco to blush again.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you, we don’t have to do anything,” Harry whispered, “we can go check up on everyone and…and I don’t know.” The raven shrugged. Draco had a sudden impulse to kiss him, so he did. When their lips met, a shock of electricity passed through Draco, followed quickly by a shiver. Harry rested their foreheads together.

“I’m cold,” Draco said suddenly. Harry frowned,

“Do you want to go inside?”

The blonde let out a carefree laugh that filled Harry’s heart with warmth.

“No. But… _I’m cold,_ ” Draco tried to explain, “for the first time since I can remember – I’m cold.”

Harry smiled and brushed his fingers against Draco’s lips. Then he pulled off his hoodie and wrapped it around the small blonde,

“Well I don’t want you to freeze,” he took his hand, “come on.”

The raven led the blonde to the wall overlooking the city. Harry sat on it, letting his feet dangle over the edge, and pulled Draco onto his lap. The boy barely weighted a thing. Harry kissed his temple and wrapped his arms around his waist,

“I love you.” He said again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos?  
> Please?  
> Namaste


	5. Sleeping Newt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt's mother committed suicide when he was a baby. To get away from his crazy father, his aunt adopts him. Newt lives in London with his adopted-siblings, when Thomas stumbles into his life.  
> And then everything goes wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.

**Sleeping Newt**

 Ava Paige was cradling the tiny baby in her arms, brushing the soft blonde tufts on top of his head. It had almost been a week, but she still couldn’t get used to the miracle of nature in front of her. Her beautiful son. Her son. She hugged the baby closer and his tiny hands curled into fists. Ava knew it wouldn’t be easy – as she was a single mother, but she was ready to take on the world with her bundle of joy in her arms.

A soft knock sounded on the hospital door.

“Come in!” Ava called, and smiled at the happiness she heard in her own voice. A smiling woman came in, her three year old son jogging in before them. He had a cute little nose and wide whiskey-coloured eyes. He ran straight for Ava’s bed and unceremoniously peered at her son. The boy blinked.

“Is this him?” the boy demanded.

“Tom, why don’t you say hello first,” his mother scolded him, and then kissed Ava on both cheeks, “It’s lovely to see you looking so well dear. Now let’s see that wonderful son of yours.”

Ava handed the baby over to her best friend and the woman held him close, looking down at him. Little Thomas jumped around impatiently.

“ _Mom_!” he whined, “Let me see!”

“In a moment Tom, stop being so impatient.”

“Oh come on,” Ava laughed merrily, “let the boy have some fun. Sit down on the bed Thomas,” the woman patted the covers next to her and Thomas sat down quickly.

“Don’t drop him,” his mother commanded and then gently eased the baby into her son’s arms. Thomas stared at the blonde little boy in his arms with awe, eyes wide, arms securely wrapped around him. And then he gently reached out and pressed the tip of his thumb to the baby’s tiny nose.

The newborns eyes fluttered open softly, and shone a brilliant blue. He blinked.

“Mom!” Tom yelled, a huge smile on his face, “He opened his eyes! He looked at me!”

The women peered down and started cooing at the child, talking in soft voices, about his baby blues. But the newborns eyes were fixed right on Thomas, his tiny fist reaching for the toddler.

“What’s his name?” Thomas asked breathlessly.

“It’s Newt.”

↮

There were loads of people at the Christening – Ava’s side of the family a few friends, the priest from the local parish centre. Everyone came to congratulate the woman on a wonderful son, give their gifts, and ‘aww’ over baby Newt. Thomas stood solemnly at the buggy’s side, proud because Newt stopped crying after Thomas offered him his hand, and now the blonde wouldn’t let go of his thumb.

“Lovely boys,”  Ava’s grandfather nodded as he was pushed along in his wheelchair by his son. His unfocused hazy blue eyes moved from baby Newt to Thomas, “you’ve got wonderful sons, Ava.”

The woman looked uncomfortable,

“Um, grandad, Thomas isn’t my son,” she said gently. The old man nodded like he knew all along,

“Of course.” He said. Four, slightly angry looking kids burst into the room. Two dark haired girls, a little Asian boy and a grumpy looking boy. They weaved between people’s legs and made it to little Newt’s cradle.

“Auntie!” The older of the two girls, five year old Teresa, called, “Auntie! Can we give little Newt his presents now?”

Ava laughed,

“Of course Teresa,” she said gently. The woman picked up little Newt and put him into Teresa’s arms when she sat on the couch. Newt looked up at the girl with wide blue eyes, moving his arms up in the air. Teresa smiled. One of her front teeth was missing. She smoothed down the unruly lock of Newt’s blonde hair. She handed her aunt a teddy bear with a neat green bow around its neck, “for when he’s older,” Teresa informed her. Ava nodded,

“Thank you, Tessa.”

The little girl leaned down and whispered in baby Newt’s ear,

“You are going to be the most beautiful boy, I can tell.” And then with a dimpled smile she passed the baby to five year old Minho. The Asian boy happily took him into his arms. He touched their noses together and Newt smiled reaching to touch Minho’s face.

Minho passed a clumsily wrapped present to Ava, and then turned back to the baby, holding him carefully. Tessa peered over his shoulder.

“I bet you’ll be wicked at guitar,” the boy said confidently, “and then we can play in a band together.”

He pressed their noses together again, and Newt smiled happily, before the Asian boy called Gally over. The two year old came over, uneasy on his feet.

“What do you wish for Newt?” Teresa asked. The boy furrowed his impressive eyebrows.

“I wish that he be nice. Nowt like Minhwo.” He said stubbornly. Minho rolled his eyes,

“Okay, whatever. Brenda?” His youngest sister, who was barely one and a half, stumbled over. She was sucking on a lollipop, “Say a wish for Newt-”

There was suddenly an angry knock at the front door, and a hush fell over the room. Ava and Thomas’ mother exchanged a look, and then Ava smiled fakely,

“An unexpected guest,” she assured the people, but she sounded nervous. She slowly walked out into the corridor and then to the door. She took a gulp and Thomas’ mother followed her, confused. Ava opened the front door and a man stumbled in, drunk off his mind.

“Where is he?!” the man roared. Ava stumbled back,

“Janson please-”

“Where is he you dumb bitch?!” Janson smashed his bottle on a wall. Shard of glass and alcohol hit the carpet, staining it, “WHERE’S MY SON?!”

At this point the guests began pouring out of the living room to see what the commotion was about. They all cowered as he waved the bottle around, someone threatened to call the police.

“Let me see my son!” Janson growled at his ex-wife, “let me see my son or I’ll swear to God I’ll take him away from you.” The bottle slashed dangerously close to Ava’s face, and the woman flinched. Thomas ran out and stared at the large man, cursing and threatening the mother of Newt. Then he sprinted back into the living room, Brenda hot on his heels despite her tiny legs, dodging between people’s feet. He jumped on the couch and pulled Newt out of his buggy. The blonde began wailing as Thomas struggled with his weight. He hid in the corner, Newt in his arms, Brenda latched onto his arms, as both of them tried to calm the blonde down.  

“It’s okay Newt,” Thomas whispered, “I’m here. I won’t let him take you, I promise. I’ll protect you…”

“Down’t wowwy,” Brenda lisped and let Newt’s hand curl around her finger, “my wish is that hwe won’t hwurt you.”

Janson pushed past the guests and barged into the living room, his eyes focused on Thomas and Newt in the corner.

“You!” The man spat, “Give me my son, little son of a bitch!”

“No.” Thomas said stubbornly. Janson roared wordlessly and raised his bottle, but Ava soundlessly stepped between him and the boys.

“Leave now,” she seethed, “or I will call the police and you’ll go right back to jail, you bastard.” She held her phone ready in her hand. Janson glanced at it and then slowly began backing away,

“Remember this bitch,” he growled, “I’ll come back for my son. I’ll take him away from you.”

“No court would give a drunk rights to a child,” Ava yelled. Her cheeks were red, tears in her eyes.

“The court doesn’t have to know. No one will know,” Janson smiled evilly, “One morning you’ll wake up and your precious baby boy will be _gone._ And maybe I’ll keep him,” Janson was at the door now, looming over everyone. He smirked, “and maybe I’ll send you his body.”

And then he was walking out of the house, leaving a terrified, shaking Ava in the doorway.

“Oh baby,” Thomas’ mother tried to reach to her, but Ava pushed past her and everyone else and practically ripped Newt from Thomas’ arms. She cradled him close,

“They won’t t-take you,” she sobbed. Her baby cried, “they won’t t-take my baby. I-I won’t let them…”

Later that evening, when everyone had left and it was just Ava, her sister and her father, her sister gently offered to take Newt in. Ava knew she needed medical help – she wasn’t exactly the healthiest mentally, and her sister already had adopted two girls and two boys, and Ava knew that her little Newt would be safe there. So she said yes.

Yes, for the time being.

Yes, for a few months.

Yes, until I get everything together and I can take him back.

But Ava never got little Newt back. She committed suicide two weeks later, after days of her ex-husband banging on doors and swearing at her. She took the pills and fell asleep in her bed, with a smile on her face because Newt was safe.

When Thomas and his mother came to her funeral, the boy didn’t understand what happened. Where was his Newt, why couldn’t he take care of him anymore? Didn’t his mother understand that he _promised…_

Meanwhile Ava’s sister took all of her kids, and baby Newt, and moved to London. And Thomas was never to see him again.

↮

**16 years later.**

“NEWT!” Gally screeched as he stared at the monstrosity of his eyebrows. They were painted black with a permanent marker and no matter how hard Gally tried, he could not get it off.

His blonde cousin came running in, school blazer half pulled on, his feet bare.

“What?” he asked. Gally turned to him and Newt screamed in surprise before dissolving into laughter.

“Don’t laugh you shank!” Gally yelled angrily.

“Oh God, I-I’m sorry,” Newt wheezed, bending over, gasping for breath, his thin frames wracked with giggles. Gally glared at him,

“You did this.”

Newt stopped laughing and frowned,

“No I didn’t?” he offered. Gally sighed and then looked at himself in the mirror, absolutely defeated,

“Then who did?” he asked. Newt crossed his pale arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow,

“Oh I don’t know,” he said sarcastically, “Perhaps Teresa. Or you know, Brenda. Or maybe _Minho?”_

Gally’s eyes widened underneath his angry eyebrows.

“That cross eyed bastard,” he hissed, and stormed past Newt, screaming his adopted brother’s name loudly. Newt leaned against the wall and sighed, he didn’t understand why they had all thought it was a good idea to move out and start living together. Newt was only sixteen, and he still went to school. So did Brenda and Minho. Just because Gally and Tessa were ‘adults’ didn’t mean they acted like that. The constant pranks and arguments were seriously getting on Newt’s nerves.

The blonde stalked back to the room he and Minho shared and was not surprised to find his cousin gone, probably running from a furious Gally. The blonde pulled on his socks and shoes, grabbed his bag and walked out of his room. Brenda was waiting for him at the door, texting furiously on her phone with one hand, a half-eaten croissant in the other.

“Morning,” Newt offered.

“Mom wants us to go to that charity party with her,” was all his sister said as they jumped into their SUV. Brenda locked her phone and glanced around, “Is Min coming?”

“I don’t know. As far as I know he’s busy being chased by Gally,”

“Ugh, boys,” Brenda complained and began pulling out of their driveway.

“Soo…about the party,” Newt inquired, “is it fancy dress?”

“Yup,” Brenda said with a bright, predatory grin, “The Roaring Twenties.”

↮

“Okay, mom,” Thomas sighed into the phone, one arm securing the strap of his bag on his shoulder, “I know the address.”

“ _Make sure you go to that party.”_ His mom’s worried voice rang through the phone, “ _Ms Agnes will make sure you know your way around London.”_

“Okay, mom,” Thomas sighed again, “I love you. Bye.”

“Bye, Tommy, I love you too.” Thomas hanged up and stepped out of the airport taking in a deep breath of London air. He was really here, in England, all by himself. A massive grin appeared on the brunette’s face, life was great.

↮

“So…like, too much boob?” Brenda inquired, standing in a short, low cut black dress in front of her siblings. The little beads on strings barely brushed her mid-thighs. Teresa wrinkled her nose,

“Yes, Bree, too much boob,” the girl said. Brenda sighed,

“How else am I gonna pick up hot chicks?” she whined, fixing her headdress. Gally snorted,

“Yeah, exactly.” He agreed meanly. His eyebrows were back to normal. Brenda swatted at him as Teresa smoothed down her knee-length green dress.

“Where’s Newt and Minho?” she asked impatiently.

“We’re here! Don’t panic!” Minho jumped down the stairs, his black tie untied around his neck, his three top buttons undone, his shirt out of his trousers.

“You look like a mess,” Brenda said simply. Minho shrugged happily, his eyes turning into half-moons,

“Whatever you say, sis. Can we go? I wanna try the appetisers,” the Asian boy said, rubbing his hands together. Teresa rolled her eyes,

“Yeah okay, where’s Newt?”

“I don’t want to go,” the blonde’s quiet voice floated from the shadowed staircase. Brenda and Teresa exchanged a look,

“Why not?” Teresa asked. Newt peeked his blonde head around the corner.

“Because I’m wearing _suspenders,_ ” he said, exasperated.

“They’re cute, though,” Brenda pointed out. Newt just disappeared back in the shadows. Everyone groaned, and Gally reached into the darkness, pulling a struggling Newt out by his wrist. The blonde stood defeated in the light, dressed in black dungarees, a waistcoat and a fucking _bowtie._

“I look ridiculous,” he whined.

“You look cute, let’s go!” Minho said quickly and jumped out of the door before they could be even more late. His siblings shuffled out and then a massive argument started on the seating arrangement, but eventually Newt was allowed to go shotgun so he could cheer up a bit. Teresa drove and Minho, Gally and Brenda shoved each other in the backseat, complaining the entire way. Newt just stared out of the window, nibbling on his lip.

The real reason why he didn’t want to go to the party wasn’t because of his costume (though he had to admit he looked really stupid), but because a certain someone would be there. Aris Jones, his ex-boyfriend.

“Let’s go get chicks!” Brenda yelled when Tessa parked, and the two boys in the back cheered.

“Or guys?” Teresa offered. Newt high fived her weakly.

↮

So far the party was alright, a bit over the top in Thomas’ opinion, but alright. Ms Agnes came and welcomed him warmly, they exchanged phone numbers and after some awkward small talk, the woman left to talk to one of the more important people.

Thomas ditched his blazer and was now in a black shirt with the top button undone, and a red tie. He sipped on his whiskey and watched the people mingling around the room. A jazz band was set up on a stage and most of the guests were dancing to the music. Everything was a blur of headdresses and bowties and heels. It all made Thomas’ head spin. Well, all that and the whiskey.

A girl suddenly popped up in front of him, dressed in a green dress.

“Thomas Paige, right?” she asked. Thomas smiled a bit awkwardly,

“Err, yeah.” He juggled his glass to his left hand and then clumsily shook the girl’s hand with his slightly damp right one. She laughed,

“I’m Teresa. Don’t know if you remember me.”

“Um, not really,” Thomas offered weakly, shrugging, “I was only three as far as I know.”

“Of course,” Teresa laughed, eyes twinkling, “Well? Care to dance with me, _sir_?” She curtsied and it was Thomas’ turn to chuckle.

“Of course,” he said and led the girl to the dance floor. She wasn’t really his type, but she was sweet and pretty, and one dance didn’t hurt anybody.

After the last spin on the last note of the song, the people clapped politely.

“Let me introduce you to my siblings,” Teresa offered.

“Yeah, okay,” Thomas agreed and let himself be pulled out of the once-again dancing crowd.

They found the brown haired girl first, flirting shamelessly by some dark skinned girl dressed in gold.

“Brenda,” Teresa hissed, and then smiled brightly, “You remember Thomas, right?

The brown haired girl eyed Thomas up and down,

“Nope,” she said popping the ‘p’, “but if I was straight I’d totally tap that,” she winked and her companion giggled. Teresa glared at her sister and led Thomas away,

“Sorry,” she said, “she’s always like that.”

“Er…that’s okay,” Thomas offered. They weaved through the crowd until they caught Minho, surrounded by a ring of girls.

“Seriously?” Teresa sighed to herself, “why are all my siblings so cheap? MINHO!” she exclaimed. The Asian boy looked up, still grinning,

“What’s up sis? Who’s your friend, new prey?” Teresa flushed furiously,

“No, I don’t swing that way,” Thomas said casually. He offered Minho his hand and the Asian shook it, “Thomas.”

“Minho,” they introduced themselves. A girl giggled shamelessly and another was practically glued to the boys arm, “Sorry. Business calls.”

“Let’s go,” Teresa took Thomas’ hand and pulled him away. They walked around the dark side of the room, “I didn’t know you like boys,” Teresa said.

“Oh,” Thomas looked uncomfortable, “well…yeah.”

“That’s cool,” Teresa smiled, “My adopted brother, Newt’s gay.”

“Newt?” Thomas frowned. The name seemed familiar…

“Yeah. Do you remember him?” Teresa inquired, “You were pretty attached to him when you were a kid.”

“Aw c’mon,” Thomas groaned, “I was three. I don’t remember.”

“Alright, alright,” Teresa raised her hands in surrender, and then noticed a boy with angry eyebrows in the corner, sipping on champagne and glaring at everyone, “oh look there’s Gally.”

Before Thomas could protest, the girl was once again dragging him.

“Hi Gally,” Teresa said, slightly breathless.

“Who’s your friend?” Gally asked, glaring at Thomas.

“That’s Thomas.” Teresa introduced him, “and this is my brother, Gally.”

“ _Adoptive_ brother.” Gally interrupted.

“Yeah okay, whatever,” Teresa said, “have you seen Newt?”

“Last I saw he was walking outside. He looked pretty upset. That Aris kid followed him,” Gally shrugged and downed his champagne.

“And you didn’t go after him!?” Teresa demanded, “you know how Aris makes him feel!”

Thomas stood between the two awkwardly,

“What was I meant to do?” Gally defended himself, “I’m not getting in-between their lovers quarrel.”

“You do know that they’re broken up,” Teresa hissed. Gally sighed and put his glass down,

“Fine I’ll go get him.”

“Actually I was gonna go outside for a smoke,” Thomas said, “I might as well get him on the way.”

Teresa sighed in relief,

“Thanks. He’s really small and blonde.”

Thomas nodded and pushed past the crowd, to get to the closed doors. He pushed at them impatiently and took a deep breath of the cold, night air. After so many hours in the stuffy hall, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. The boy leaned against the brick wall and watched his breath turn to mist in front of his face. That’s when he heard the voices.

“…Seriously Newt!? You know I’m the best you’ll ever get!” an angry boy sneered.

“Aris, we’re over. I don’t want you anymore,” a trembling, upset voice answered, “You broke my heart.”

“Oh c’mon, that was one time, and with a girl. I was experimenting.”

“Well it bloody hurt, so just leave me alone. I don’t want to see you.”

Thomas slowly rounded the corner. Two figures stood in the shadows, the shorter one caged into the wall by the taller ones arms. The trapped figure tried to duck under the taller’s arms, but the angry boy slammed him into the wall. The figure gasped,

“Aw, fuck. That hurt you idiot!” The upset voice hissed.

“I’ll hurt you even more,” the attacker hissed, leaning closer to the other boy, “if you don’t get back together with me. I’ll get your dad on you, I’ll tell him where you are, I swear-”

Thomas’ had had enough. He stepped forward,

“Oi!” he called, “What the hell are you doing?! Leave him alone!”

He roughly grabbed the back of the attacker’s shirt and pulled him backwards. He slammed him into the wall, and the brown-haired boy in front of him gasped,

“What the fuck-” he started, wincing. Then he noticed how Thomas towered over him. He shook him off roughly, “Nevermind. Whatever,” then he turned to his ‘friend’, “Remember what I said, Newt!” and he ran off. Thomas let out a sigh of relief and turned to the boy left with him,

“That was close. You okay-”

The words literally _died_ inside of Thomas’ throat, and he found it really hard to swallow, because _shit_ this guy was gorgeous.

He stood, slightly out of breath, delicate hands shaking, blonde hair tussled, cheeks tinged pink from the cold, blue eyes wide…Thomas’ couldn’t stop his gaze from travelling down the guy’s body. He was thin, and about a head shorter than Thomas’, his pale skin seemed white in the moonlight.

“I-um…err,” the brunette said intelligently.

“Thanks,” the blonde said abruptly, refusing to meet Thomas’ eye, “for helping me. That was nice of you.”

“You’re Newt, right?” Thomas asked, because he really hated ‘thankyou’s.’ The blonde frowned,

“Yeah. How do you know?”

“I met your sister,” Thomas said, a bit awkwardly.

“Tessa or Brenda?” Newt asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his dungarees. _He looks really cute in those_ …Thomas shook his head, forcing himself to focus on Newt’s soft voice and not his adorable outfit.

“Teresa,” Thomas replied. Newt smiled, and looked up to the heavens as if thanking them,

“Thank God. Brenda’s a handful.”

“Oh I met her too,” Thomas said quickly, “and Minho. And Gally.”

Newt groaned,

“Just so you know, we’re not _actually_ related,” Newt clarified, but Thomas could tell he was joking, “well me and Tessa are.”

“Oh,” Thomas said, because he couldn’t really gather his thoughts with Newt so close. So he made the mistake of asking the dumbest question, “So who was that guy?”

Newt’s whole expression darkened.

“I…My ex-boyfriend. He’s an abusive asshole,” he said. And then blushed – he didn’t want Thomas to think that Aris hurt him, which he did but…

“I could beat him up if you want,” Thomas offered, eyes suddenly angry. He wasn’t big on violence but he suddenly had the need to protect the blonde boy, and if that meant bruising his ex’s face, then so be it. Newt huffed out a laugh, breath changing into a cloud in front of his face. Then he shivered slightly, “You cold?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah.” Newt said, “Are you gonna offer me you jacket now?”

“If you want,” Thomas said, hands scrambling to undo his buttons. Newt laughed again,

“I’m kidding.” He said, “Let’s go back inside though. It is pretty cold.”

Thomas agreed and the two walked quickly back inside. The party _changed_. The men lost the blazers and tie’s, the girls left the heels laying around, the lights were dimmed, the band gone, a DJ was busting out so music, all the younger people were up on the dancefloor, dancing. It was like a nightclub,

“Damn,” Newt said blinking rapidly as the colourful lights that swirled around hurt his eyes, “It wasn’t like this when I left.”

“I know,” Thomas shouted over the music, “let’s find Tessa.” Newt nodded in agreement and the two began pushing through the crowd. Thomas had to keep turning around to make sure the smaller blonde was keeping up. Someone bumped into Newt and he stumbled. Thomas’ hand shot out and he circled Newt’s wrist,

“So you don’t get lost!” the brunette yelled over the music. The floor thumped with vibrations and Newt was blushing. Thomas really wanted to kiss him but he knew that would be inappropriate. The blonde gently slid his freezing cold hand into Thomas’ warm one, letting his fingers slot in between the other boys’ ones. Thomas smiled and the jumped back into the crowd, pulling Newt along.

↮

Normally, Newt wasn’t like that. Normally, Newt stood up for himself and wouldn’t let Aris bully him, but he was terrified of his threats about getting his father on him. He heard enough stories. Also – Aris was bigger than him, but not as big as Thomas, and Newt really didn’t want a black eye. So that’s why he let Thomas deal with his ex-boyfriend.

And he didn’t normally go off telling people about his and Aris’ business, but the way Thomas stood so close to him, making him feel so safe…and the way he looked at Newt. Nobody had  looked at the blonde like that before, and it made him shiver and want to step closer to the other boy. Which was weird. And creepy.

And he didn’t normally let boys hold his hand unless they were dating but fuck, Thomas’ hand was so big and warm, and he was tugging Newt along gently, making sure that he wasn’t hurting him and it made him feel all tingly inside.

The only person the blonde had dated was Aris, and he was all persistence and violence and hot kissed and wandering hands, growls and snapping…Thomas was warm and safe and strong.

 _You sound like a teenage girl,_ Newt scolded himself. Someone barged into him suddenly and he couldn’t keep his balance. The blonde was send crashing into Thomas’ back. The brunette didn’t even stumble, just turned around and caught Newt before he could fall to the floor. They realized that they were in the middle of the packed dancefloor. Well Thomas realized, Newt was too busy hyperventilating over the fact that _Thomas’ fucking arms were around his waist and he was so close that Newt could smell him and oh God-_

“You okay?” Thomas’ asked, speaking directly into the blonde’s ear. Newt shivered. He was so confused by his reactions…

“Y-Yeah,” he said, mind a bit hazy, “Let’s f-find Tessa…”

But Teresa found them first, Ms Agnes and Minho in tow. They all looked slightly panicked.

“Newt!” Ms Agnes sighed in relief, “Thank God.”

“What’s wrong, Auntie?” Newt frowned, and hastily let go of Thomas’ hand.

“Your father’s here!” Tessa yelled over the music, “he found our address somewhere and he knows where you’re staying!”

“You need to go, now,” Minho interrupted. As well as panicked, he looked slightly high. Newt was confused and quite frankly, terrified.

“B-But where?!” he asked. Ms Agnes ran a hand through her curls and looked around blindly. Thomas stepped forward.

“I’ll take him,” he said firmly, calmly. He glanced between the panicking blonde to Ms Agnes, “at least until tomorrow. You’ve got my number, miss. And his father won’t find him at my place.”

Ms Agnes looked slightly unsure,

“Newt, honey-”

Brenda ran up to them, followed by Gally. Her lips were red and her hair was everywhere,

“He’s arguing in the lobby,” she said quickly, “we have no time.”

“I’ll go with Thomas,” Newt said suddenly, “until…things calm down.”

Ms Agnes opened her mouth to say something, but angry shouts sounded near the front of the room.

“Go.” Brenda said, eyes boring holes in Newt’s brain, “just go.” She pushed him towards Thomas, who grabbed his wrist and ran towards the backdoor, pulling the blonde with him. Newt managed to catch a glimpse of a red, rat like face, and angry eyes, before he was outside.

↮

Newt stood in the middle of Thomas’ living room. There were boxes stacked everywhere, unpacked bags and suitcases. Clearly, the brunette hadn’t bothered to unpack yet.

“Um, so…,” Thomas said awkwardly, playing with his keys. Newt hugged himself and look at the floor. He tried to blink back his tears. Why did everything always have to be ruined. First Aris’ has a go at him, now his dad ruins a night that was just starting to look up. Newt missed his mom, he didn’t remember her but he wished she could be here so he had someone to share this fear with.

“I-I’ll sleep on the couch,” the blonde said shakily. Thomas looked at him, unsure of what to do. Newt took a deep breath, “I-It’s great of y-you for letting m-me stay here, r-really. I-I’ll be o-out of you h-hair tomorrow and it’ll a-all be o-okay.”

“Newt.” Thomas said gently, and reached for the blonde. Newt flinched away,

“S-Sorry I j-just…,” Newt bit his lip, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Thomas helplessly let his arm flop back to his side.

“I’ll make you tea,” he offered softly, “do you want some?”

“Y-Yes please,” Newt whispered. He took a shaky breath and wiped at his eyes angrily, “C-Could I use the bathroom?”

“Last door on the left,” Thomas nodded, eyes glued to Newt’s face. The blonde dashed through the doorway and ran to the bathroom, accidently slamming the door shut. He winced and then turned to the mirror. His eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, he was paler than usual, only his cheeks were red. Newt stifled a sob with his sleeve and then turned away from his pathetic reflection. He slid down the war and started crying, muffling his voice with his hand.

↮

Thomas was worried. He didn’t know Newt very well…or at all, but it didn’t stop him from feeling for the boy. He looked so lost when he stood in Thomas’ living room, and the brunette just wanted to comfort him. Instead, he tried to focus on making him some tea. He had forgot to ask how Newt took it, so he just went for it, putting in two sugars and some milk. He made tea with no milk for yourself and brought it to the couch, cleaning some boxes from it.

As he lifted the last, pretty heavy, box, Newt walked in. Thomas could tell he was crying, his beautiful blue eyes were rimmed red and the tip of his nose was pink. The brunette smiled at him, ignoring his disgruntled, although still cute, appearance.

“Tea’s on the floor,” he said, putting the box in the corner, “sorry I didn’t get a table yet.”

“It’s okay,” Newt sniffed a little bit, and then smiled, “thank you.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Thomas took a sip of his tea. And then he got an idea, “Actually come outside, I’ve got a great view from the balcony.”

The two got up, took their mugs, and walked outside. It was cold, and Newt was still in his weird outfit from the party, as was Thomas, but the view made the blonde forget about the weather for a moment. Below them, was London in all its glory. London eye shone close by, glimmering with purple and pink lights, a beacon in the darkness, close enough to touch. Clubs were opening up for the night, happy adults and teenagers with fake ID weaved through the streets below them, giddy with excitement for a party to come, but Newt and Thomas were above them, in their own little bubble.

“It’s beautiful,” Newt breathed, forming a cloud in front of his face. Thomas nodded, smiling, and sipped on his tea. Newt sat down on the concrete floor of the balcony and slotted his legs in-between the railings. Thomas did the same. The two sipped at their drinks for a moment,

“So what do you do?” Thomas asked, “in your free time?”

“I play the guitar,” Newt shrugged one shoulder, “I’m alright I suppose. What about you?”

“Well,” Thomas smiled over the rim of his cup, “I draw.”

“Really?” Newt’s eyes widened. He wasn’t looking at London anymore, but at Thomas.

“Yeah,” Thomas said, and then added quickly before he could chicken out, “You should let me draw you some time.”

Newt grimaced,

“I’m not exactly a model,” he sipped.

“I think you’d be a great model,” Thomas assured, and then flushed, quickly drinking the rest of his drink. Newt just stared at him, blushing, before looking back at the city. Thomas put his cup down and stood up. He reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“What are you doing?” Newt asked, putting his cup down. Thomas had a cigarette in between his teeth, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Err, smoking?” he offered. Newt stood up and look at Thomas in disbelief.

“ _Seriously?!”_ Newt deadpanned, and then mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘of course he couldn’t be perfect’ to Thomas’. The brunette grinned and lit the fag. Newt’s eyes widened, “Oi! Don’t smoke near me, you bloody idiot!”

“My house, my rules,” Thomas said simply, taking a drag and blowing smoke out into the night. Newt watched his lips with unfocused eyes. He was suddenly hot, “want?” Thomas asked, holding the cigarette out. Newt looked unsure, nibbling on his lip which was really fucking distracting.

“A-Alright, I guess,” he said and reached for the cigarette. Thomas moved his arm back,

“Are you sure though?”

“Just give me the fag,” Newt snapped, “I’ve had a shit day.”

Now it was Thomas’ turn to look unsure. Newt looked at him with his best puppy-dog eyes,

“Please, Tommy,” he said. Thomas sighed,

“Fine.” He grumbled and handed the cigarette to Newt. The blonde smirked and then took a long drag. And then proceeded to choke and cough, leaning over the railing.

“S-Shit,” he wheezed, “what the fuck-”

“Huh?” Thomas was momentarily distracted by Newt’s ass. It was a great ass.

“Tommy?” Newt asked. Thomas snapped his eyes away,

“Yeah. Um, that usually happens,” he took the cigarette away from the blonde and fiddled with it, “we can try something, it’s a bit weird, but it won’t make you cough.”

“Yeah, okay,” Newt laughed, “nothing could be weirder than today and- oh. Oh okay.” Newt blinked, surprised because suddenly Thomas had his hand on his chin. Newt blushed furiously,

“I…um, what a-are you doing?” he asked shakily, heart beating fast against his chest.

“Just,” Thomas looked at him, “just open your mouth.”

“What?!” Newt demanded. Thomas took a drag from the cigarette, and kept a firm hold on Newt’s chin. The brunette raised an eyebrow in question, and Newt looked away, embarrassed, but opened his mouth. Thomas came close to him, which was really not helping his heart beat right now, close enough to kiss and then blew the smoke right into the blonde’s mouth.

Newt gasped, and that caused him to suck the smoke in. Instead of scratching at his throat like before, the smoke gently eased itself down, tickling slightly. Newt didn’t cough, but closed his mouth. Thomas was still holding his chin, staring at him with a grin on his face. Newt breathed out of his nose and the smoke came out.

Both of the boys burst out laughing, pulling away from each other,

“I don’t think smoking’s for me,” Newt said when Thomas finished the cigarette.

“Yeah, it’s not for everyone,” Thomas shrugged and chucked the remains of the fag over the railing. It was out by the time it reached the pavement, “Come on it’s late. I’ll give you some pyjamas.”

The blonde followed him into his bedroom, which was slightly more unpacked but still messy. Thomas rummaged through his closet as Newt looked around the room. There was a picture of Thomas with his mom, some of his friends, concert and football match tickets, bus passes from France…

“Here,” Thomas sniffed at a light blue shirt, “should be okay. These are clean,” the brunette handed Newt the shirt and a pair of boxers, “You can change in the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

Thomas was opening the couch and throwing pillows and covers onto it, when Newt stepped out of the bathroom, and for the second time that night, Thomas forgot how to breathe. Because Newt was standing there innocently in the too-big t-shirt that magically matched his eyes, blushing slightly and looking away and _ugh._ Thomas was seriously going to need a cold shower, ASAP.

“T-The bed’s done,” the brunette said, wincing as his voice cracked. The two faced each other for a second, before Thomas looked away, “Well…goodnight, I guess.”

“Wait.” Newt’s hand shot out and grabbed Thomas’ arm. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how. The grip on Thomas’ arm loosened, and the brunette really didn’t want Newt to go yet, so he reached out and pulled him into a hug. Newt stiffened in his arms, but almost immediately relaxed, fitting against Thomas, wrapping his arms around the brunette’s waist and burying his face in the boy’s shoulder. Newt breathed out.

“Thank you,” he said again. Thomas stepped away with a smile,

“G’night Newt.”

“Night, Tommy.”

↮

The next morning Newt’s adoptive mother called him,  and told him that the police will come over to question him, and that his father is to be arrested. When they find him.

The blonde didn’t want to talk to the officers, but Thomas let them come into his living room, where Newt replied to the questions with distaste. He didn’t know much. There were death threats involved, and apparently his father wanted to hurt him. His own father.

After the police left Newt laid curled on the couch for a long time, too angry to cry. Thomas came over and squeezed his shoulder, and eventually Newt fell asleep. He woke up just past two in the afternoon. His new brunette friend was sitting opposite him, sketching.

“Are you drawing me?” Newt grumbled. Thomas fumbled with his papers, startled and beet red. His sketchbook fell to the floor and drawings scattered everywhere.

“Shit,” the brunette swore. Newt fell to his knees and helped Thomas gather the papers up. There were several drawings of people and some scenery and flowers. It was all pretty good,

“These are pretty good,” Newt voiced his thoughts, holding up a picture of a smiling woman. The detail on her face was amazing. Thomas cleared his throat,

“Yeah, um, that’s my mom.”

Newt nodded, a little smile on his face. He stared at the picture. Thomas looked uncomfortable,

“So what kind of name’s _Newt_?”

Newt blushed furiously,

“Shut up you shank,” he grumbled, and snatched the piece of paper that Thomas was holding. The brunette protested, but it was too lat. Newt stared at the sketch of him, sleeping, with his hair mused, and his mouth slightly open. It wasn’t shaded in properly, but Newt still really liked it.

“I’m not that pretty,” he pointed out.

“Yeah you are!” Thomas protested quickly, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “you’re like really, really…pretty.” He mumbled. Newt could feel his face heat up,

“Thanks, I guess.”

↮

Newt woke up that night and couldn’t fall bask asleep. The door to Thomas’ room were closed so he assumed the brunette was asleep. It was dark, the only light coming  from the street lamps outside the window. Newt sat up in bed, but he didn’t want to turn the light on in case he woke Tommy up.

The blonde got up and padded to the bathroom. He threw cold water on his tired, pale face, and then he saw the lone cigarette lying next to the counter. Newt twirled it in his slim fingers and then pocketed it. He walked to the kitchen and pulled out a pair of matches he knew were in one of the cabinets. Then, as quietly as he could, the blonde opened the balcony door.

It was cold, mid-November. Newt suddenly wished for something warmer than one of Thomas’ thin, cotton shirts, but he wasn’t about to go wake the brunette up. So Newt leaned against the railing and lit the match. He watched it burn for a second, mesmerized by the fire.

“Newt?” Thomas asked sleepily. The blonde whirled around, and saw the brunette leaning against the balcony door, “You okay?”

It was a weird moment for Newt. His stomach did a back flip, and any words he had died in his throat, and his heart beat stuttered, and he was hot all over just from Thomas looking at him. And then there was a sharp pain on his hand. Newt yelled out and dropped the match, which had completely burned down until it had scorched his skin.

“Shit,” he cursed. Thomas walked up to him and grabbed his hand, there was an angry welt on Newt’s pale skin, “Ouch.” The blonde complained.

“Quick, put it under the cold water!” Thomas instructed, pulling him into the apartment and the into the kitchen. The brunette forced Newt to put his burned hand under the running water of the sink.

“What were you even trying to _do_?” Thomas asked. Newt shrugged, looking at his hand under the water. It was going numb from the cold liquid, but what interested him was the fact that Thomas was still holding his burned palm.

“I couldn’t go to sleep so I thought I’d go for a smoke.”

Thomas chuckled despite himself,

“Made a real addict out of you, didn’t I?”

Newt just splashed him playfully. And then he realized what he did. The front of Thomas’ shirt was wet, and his face was in shock. Newt winced,

“Shit sorry-”

Thomas grabbed a cup, and filled it up with water, still holding onto Newt’s hand firmly.

“Wait, Tommy d-don’t-” Newt didn’t get to finish because then his entire being was being soaked with freezing water. The blonde squealed, err, yelled manly, and tried to free himself from Thomas. Splashing at him desperately,

“Stop it!” Newt yelled, and finally managed to get away. The blonde sprinted to the bathroom, and Thomas frowned.

“Newt?” he said, following, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt uncom-”

He was cut off because the second he walked into the bathroom, his entire being was assaulted by a freezing cold spray of water from the shower head. Newt cackled madly when Thomas yelped and ducked back out.

“Come in here, you coward!” Newt yelled after him. Thomas came back with a bowl (where the hell did he get that?!) and he threw it at Newt, who ducked, but accidently dropped the shower head and got a face full of water. The blonde screamed while Thomas laughed, and jumped out of the bath. Newt ducked under Thomas’ arm and ran back into the kitchen, looking for a new weapon. The tap was still running so Newt filled up the cup that Thomas had abandoned and held it in front of him like a gun.

“If you come closer, I’ll throw it at you,” the blonde warned, giggling in between words. Thomas grinned,

“I’m already soaking,” he said and stepped closer. Newt threw the water at him and chucked the cup in the sink. Thomas reached for him, and Newt stepped back, slipping on the wet floor. The blonde went down and grasped at Thomas for purchase. Both of them ended up sprawled on the floor. Well, Newt was sprawled on the floor, complaining, and Thomas was on top of him, laughing.

“Get off you’re heavy!” Newt yelled, but his face broke into a grin. Thomas pulled himself off and hovered over Newt. Suddenly the atmosphere changed and the smiles disappeared from both the boys faces. The only sounds in the room was their slightly-erratic breathing and the water running.

“You should turn it off,” Newt said quietly.

“Yeah.” Thomas agreed, but didn’t move, his eyes glued to Newt’s. He could see the water droplet’s clinging to the blonde’s dark eyelashes. The brunette reached down and pushed a piece of Newt’s wet hair behind his ear.

“Don’t.” Newt said suddenly, grasping Thomas’ warm wrist and pulling it away from his face. He couldn’t take it anymore, his hurt fucking _hurt._ Newt pushed the brunette off of him and ran to the bedroom. He began throwing the clothes Minho brought for him into a plastic bag, and tugging on his shoes.

“Where are you going?!” Thomas asked suddenly.

“Home,” Newt said, not looking up.

“Hey, c’mon,” Thomas grabbed Newt’s wrist, “I’m sorry if I did something, but please don’t go. I like having you here.”

Newt sighed,

“Look, Tommy. I can’t stay here forever, I can’t hide forever. This…it was nice, but I need to get home.”

“But I need to see you again,” Thomas insisted, hand still firmly on Newt’s wrist.

“Just leave me alone!” the blonde snapped, and pulled away. He ran out of the front door leaving a confused, disoriented Thomas in the living room, wondering what he did wrong.

↮

“This is stupid,” Teresa said anxiously, pacing the room, arms crossed over her chest. Brenda sighed,

“Chill out, babe.”

“You should be back with Thomas, save from that asshole who says he’s your dad,” Gally grumbled.

“I can’t.” Newt mumbled from the pile of covers he was under. Gally was sitting in the foot of his bed, Minho leaned against the door, Teresa paced the floor and Brenda was sat next to him, a comforting hand on what she hoped was his shoulder.

“Why not?” Brenda asked gently.

“Because I think I might like him.” Newt whined. Gally snorted,

“That’s good then, it would be hard to live with someone you hate,” he glared pointedly at Minho, who face palmed,

“That’s not what he means,” Brenda sighed, “he like _likes_ him.”

“Like _like_? What are you lot like in high school?” Gally winced, “Oh wait. You fucking are.”

Teresa glared at him and then went to sit on Newt’s other side. The blonde peeked out from behind the covers.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. Gally opened his mouth, “Gally get out. Minho you too!”

“Hey!” Minho protested, “what did I do?!”

“Just go,” Brenda hissed at them. The boys complained but got up and left the room, closing the door. She turned to Newt, “So what’s up?”

“I don’t know.” Newt said quietly, wringing his hands out, “he makes me feel…weird.”

“Weird how?” Teresa frowned, “like Aris?”

Newt shook his head,

“No. That idiot never made me feel…like _this_ ,” he waved his hand vaguely in the air, blushing. “Ugh. This is so embarrassing to talk about,” he complained, burying his face in his hands. Brenda and Teresa exchanged a look,

“Come on bro, we’re your sisters. You can talk to us.” Brenda said. Newt sighed,

“Well,” he mumbled into the covers, “he makes my heart beat really fast for no reason, and not even when he’s near, but like, if he’s across the room and just _looks_ at me in this specific way…”

“What way?” Brenda asked, Teresa shushed her. Newt shrugged helplessly,

“I don’t know. Like…like his eyes go really soft and he has this really tiny smile on his face, and it’s like I’m the only thing he can look at, which is _weird_ because he doesn’t like me like _that_ and I’m probably just imagining stuff.”

“Newt there’s nothing wrong with liking boys, you know that,” Teresa said softly, “you know we love and support both you and Brenda-”

“It’s not that I have a problem with liking boys,” Newt groaned, “it’s just _him_ specifically.”

Teresa sighed.

Brenda sighed.

Newt sighed.

“I’m going for a walk,” the blonde said, clambering over Tessa’s lap and hopping to his closet.

“Newt it’s kind of late,” Teresa protested, nibbling on her lip. Newt pulled on a hoodie,

“Don’t care.”

“Let him have some space,” Brenda said. She pulled out her phone, “I need to call Harriet.”

“New girlfriend?” Teresa asked. Brenda shrugged one shoulder and smirked,

“If I play the cards right, then possibly.”

↮

It was dark and cold out. But it was always dark and cold in London. Newt huffed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, ducking his head low as he passed by a street lamp. He wished it was summer, he longed for warmth, but the cold night air cleared his head a little bit. He pushed his earphones into his ears, and let All Time Low blare into his brain, muffling his thoughts.

Newt was so lost in the music that he didn’t notice the man following him. It started raining and the blonde swore, hiding his phone and earphones, afraid that they’d get wet. He ran into an alleyway, hoping to take the dodgy shortcut home. He was deep between the mazes of houses, when he heard the footsteps.

Newt whirled around and came face to face with his father. The blonde blinked, and suddenly he felt raw panic in his chest.

“What are you doing here!?” he demanded, trying to keep his voice steady. Janson was blocking his only way out. The other end of the alleyway ended in a brick wall. Newt didn’t remember it being there before. “What d-do you want from me?!”

“Can’t I just talk to my son?” Janson asked, smiling coldly. Newt shuddered in disgust. This man ruined his wife, caused his mother to commit suicide…

“No. Leave me and my family alone,” Newt snapped, suddenly angry.

“I am your family.”

“No you’re not,” Newt spat, “you ruined my life.”

A shadow passed over his father’s face,

“And you ruined mine,” Janson hissed, “you and you slutty, good-for-nothing, dead mother.”

“Don’t talk like that about her!” Newt yelled. Tears stung his eyes.

“I heard about you,” Janson stepped closer, and Newt stepped back. “You’re a freak aren’t you. My own kid, a fucking fag.” He spat at the ground.

“Fuck off. Leave me alone.”

“I bet you like it up the ass, you sick fuck,” Janson yelled, “piece of shit, worthless boy. I can’t believe I’m your father.”

“You’re not.” Newt yelled, hands curling into fists, “I don’t have a father!”

Janson laughed and then casually pulled out a gun. Newt stumbled back.

“You’re not only a fag, but an idiot. You think anyone will ever love you?” Janson cocked his head to the side, aiming the gun at Newt’s head, “Your mother didn’t love you. She hated you. You ruined her life, that’s why she gave you away, that’s why she killed herself. She couldn’t stand you, and she preferred to die than live with you. Good riddance,” Janson cackled, “and that boy of yours – Thomas, is it?”

“How do you know about him?!” Newt demanded,

“Oh dear boy,” Janson’s gun clicked, “I have been observing you. In “love” are you? With _him_?” the man raised an eyebrow, “you really are pathetic. You think he’d ever want you? What do you have to offer? Nothing! You’re stupid, twisted, a freak, good for nothing. Just like your mother.”

“Stop talking and just shoot me already.” Newt said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded. Janson’s words did nothing to him, he already knew all those things. Janson laughed. The rain stopped.

“Oh I won’t shoot you. That would be too obvious.” Janson grinned and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a tiny bottle of Vodka and a packet of sleeping pills. He chucked them at Newt, and they bounced off of his wet chest. “Pick them up and swallow them.”

“Or?” Newt inquired.

“Or I shoot you first, then I shoot your bastard siblings, starting with that yellow, cross eyed one, and then I’ll kill Thomas.” Janson said, almost sweetly. Newt swallowed hard, and his hands were beginning to shake. It suddenly hit  him in a rush – he’d die here. He’d die right here, in this dark alleyway, soaking wet, with alcohol burning his throat and sleeping pills in his stomach. Everyone would think it was a suicide, nobody would look for Janson. He’d die killed by his own father, and everyone would think he was just like his mother. Weak.

But he couldn’t let his family get hurt. His wonderful mother, and the stupidly brave Brenda who came out by snogging a girl at a charity event, and the gorgeous, kind Teresa who always put people first, and the cheerful, happy Minho who always lifted his spirits up, and even the moody, caring Gally. And Thomas, wonderful, of so wonderful Tommy, who made him tea, blew smoke in his mouth and drew him when he slept.

Newt bent down and picked up the alcohol and pills. He looked at them,

“Hurry up, boy I don’t have all day,” Janson sighed. He was completely unfazed by the fact he was about to force his kid to commit suicide.

“Just give me a moment,” Newt snapped, “I’m about to die.”

Janson pressed the barrel of his gun to Newt’s forehead, forcing his head to bend back.

“Do. It.” Janson seethed, “Or I swear to God you’ll never see your family alive again.”

“I hope you rot in hell.” Newt whispered, and then swallowed the pills, forcing them down with the alcohol, and his eyes never left Janson’s.

↮

Thomas burst into the waiting room, breathing fast, his shirt pulled on the wrong way round. His heart beat wildly in his chest and it hurt to take a breath, but Tommy had to get to the hospital…

The boy spotted all of Newt’s siblings sitting on the coffee-stained couches. Teresa was crying quietly into Gally’s shoulder, while Minho stared at the wall blankly. Brenda came up to greet him. She put her arms around him,

“Where is he?” Thomas whispered, returning the hug because this was Newt’s _family_ , and they deserved all the support they could get.

“Intensive care,” Brenda mumbled. There were tears shining in her brown eyes, but she looked angry. “They say it’s a suicide. A fucking suicide. Like Newt would do something like that.”

“Brenda,” Teresa hissed, suddenly appearing next to Thomas. She smiled palely at him, her eyes were bloodshot. “It’s so good that you came, Tom.” Tessa whispered, and Thomas pulled her into his arms. Gally and Minho came over, and they patted him on the shoulder.

“So…what’s his condition?” Thomas asked after a moment. A nurse hurried past.

“Stable,” Minho shrugged, hugging himself, “he’s in a coma. There’s not much the doctors can do. They got the tablets out, but it doesn’t look like he’ll be waking up anytime soon.”

“Shit.” Thomas breathed, “can I see him?”

Brenda nodded,

“Yeah. He’s in room number thirty-two. Mom just left.”

Thomas squeezed her hand and then walked into the corridor that he got pointed at. There was no-one outside the simple wooden door to Newt’s room, and up until that moment Thomas still thought that when he stepped inside Newt would be reading a book, or sleeping on his side, or drinking tea, or blowing smoke out of the window. He would smile at Thomas, call him “Tommy” or “shank” and then they would sit by each other all night and laugh.

But when the brunette opened the door, he wasn’t greeted by Newt’s warm voice, but by the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

His beautiful Newt laid on the bed, eyes closed, lashed throwing purple shadows onto his sickly pale cheeks.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

There were tubes attached to the boys arms and hands and one was down his throat.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

He didn’t look like he was asleep. He looked like he had one foot in his grave.

Thomas sat down in the empty chair at the blonde’s side. He stared at him, suddenly unsure and awkward. He felt weird talking to someone who couldn’t reply, someone who maybe couldn’t even hear him…

“Newt?” Thomas asked softly. On impulse he slid his hand into Newt’s one. It was soft but slightly cold. The brunette slid the coma patient’s hand, “Newt, I don’t know if you can hear me but…but I know you didn’t do it. You didn’t try to kill yourself, I know it and Brenda knows it, and I think that deep down Tessa, Minho and Gally know it too.” The words suddenly flowed more easily, “I don’t know if you know it’s me, but please come back. Or give us a sign, or something. Please, Newt.”

The blonde didn’t wake up, didn’t squeeze Thomas’ hand, his heartbeat didn’t pick up. So the brunette just sat there, holding Newt’s limp hand in his and smoothing down his blonde locks until Gally came in. He stood next to Thomas silently for a moment,

“Brenda says you should come over for dinner,” he grumbled eventually. Thomas nodded, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go of his blonde. Gally sighed, “Come on man. He’s not going anywhere.”

↮

_Newt was in a metal box. His claustrophobia kicked in and his breathing sped up, he clawed at the metal walls, but there were no doors. He knew he was going up. Up and up and up, for God knows how long._

_And then, suddenly, the metal lifted stopped. Newt sat in the corner and looked around expectantly, his heart beating wildly. He was afraid._

_The ceiling parted and bright sunshine flooded Newt’s eyes. He shielded them abruptly, curling in on himself. After so much time in the dark the light hurt him. Then a deep voice spoke._

_“Welcome to the Glade, Greenie.” A boy suddenly appeared above him. Newt let out a startled gasp and crawled back. The boy had dark skin and a bald head, one of his muscular arms was extended towards Newt. His eyes were warm but he wasn’t smiling._

_Hesitantly, Newt let himself be pulled out of the metal box. The blonde stood up and looked around, and his blue eyes widened when he saw the four massive walls on either side of him, far off, like a cage. A very pretty, sunny cage._

_The blonde stumbled backwards. It was just him, and the four walls, cracked open in the middle, and the mystery boy. Darkness greeted him from the exits and Newt shuddered. There were no birds, no wind. It was eerily quiet._

_If Newt was really dead, then this was definitely not heaven. The blonde stalked over to the closest wall, the other boy didn’t stop him, feeling fear coiling deep inside his stomach. He stood opposite the doorway, and watched a stone corridor, overgrown with vine, curl around the corner._

_The boy studied the wall. He reached out  to touch it but he couldn’t feel the rough stone beneath his palm. He saw the names written on the slabs though. Alby. Ben. Chuck. Frypan. Jeff. Winston. Zart. Newt’s pale fingers traced over the names._

_“W-Who are y-you?” Newt asked, sensing the dark skinned boys presence next to him, “where am I?”_

_“My name is Alby and this is the Glade,” the newcomer waved his hand around, “an in-between place of sorts.”_

_Newt winced,_

_“Like purgatory?”_

_The older boy chuckled,_

_“You think you’re dead, ain’t it shank?” he asked, and slung his arm around Newt’s shoulders, “Trust me, you’re not. You’re in a coma, everyone here is.”_

_“Everyone?” Newt frowned. And very slowly the Glade came to life. People came out of buildings that Newt hadn’t noticed before, barely more than shacks. There were boys and girls alike, all wearing weird clothing, carrying gardening equipment._

_“I don’t understand,” Newt mumbled._

_“The Glade…it’s a sort of suicide room,” Alby said, “for teenagers. If you tried to commit suicide and failed, and are now in a coma, you come here.”_

_“B-But,” Newt stumbled, “I didn’t commit suicide. I was murdered!”_

_“You’re not dead, shank.” Alby hissed, “you’re still alive. But you don’t belong here. In the Glade. You’re not a suicider.”_

_“Then what am I doing here?!”_

_“I don’t know.” Alby shrugged. A small, chubby boy with brown, curly hair ran over on his short legs. His cheeks were pink and there was a wide smile on his face,_

_“Hey Alby,” he looked at Newt, “New boy?”_

_“This is Newt,” Alby explained, “Newt, this is Chuck.”_

_“Hi. Nice to meet you,” Chuck waved a little. He couldn’t be older than twelve, “Alby. Winston and Sonya are leaving.”_

_Alby’s eyes saddened but he smiled gently,_

_“That’s good. Come, Newt.” The blonde followed his new ‘friend’ and Chuck ran on ahead._

_“So what are those doors?” Newt pointed at the walls._

_“North,” Alby pointed to the North door with two fingers, “if you want to give up and try for heaven. South,” he pointed to another door, “if you want to give up and try for hell. East,” he pointed to the third wall, “If you want to be judged in purgatory. And West,” he pointed to the door where a group of Gladers was huddling, “if you want to wake up.”_

_“It’s that easy?!” Newt asked. Alby shook his head,_

_“No. There are many obstacles on the way back down, and many people never make it to the end, instead automatically getting sent to Purgatory,” he shrugged, “some prefer to choose their own fate. Other like to wait – like me.”_

_“Oh.” Newt said. They made it to the group of boys and girls, who were all hugging a girl with pale blonde hair. The boy next to her was finishing engraving his name into the West wall. The two looked terrified, and they had heavy backpacks on their backs._

_Alby made his way to the two, and the other Gladers parted for him. The dark skinned boy embraced the boy and then the girl._

_“Good luck,” he said, “I hope you make it.”_

_The girl, Sonya, smiled,_

_“Anything any of you want us to pass on when we make it?” she asked._

_“If we make it,” The boy, Winston, grumbled. The girl rolled her eyes, as everyone said that they didn’t need anything._

_“Alright,” the girl smiled awkwardly one last time, “thanks for everything guys. And you,” she suddenly turned to Newt and winked, “don’t give up, Greenie, yeah?”_

_“Yeah,” Newt shrugged, but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Winston and Sonya walked backwards, waving, and they took off running. When they turned the corner the walls rumbled and began closing._

_“How do we know if they made it?” Newt asked after a moment, when everyone began walking off. Alby sighed,_

_“We don’t.” he admitted, “come, let’s eat dinner. And then perhaps there will be a dreamer waiting for you.”_

_“A dreamer?”_

_“Yeah. One of your family member, friends, a significant other. They sometimes come here in their dreams, but when they wake up they don’t remember it anymore.”_

_“Oh.” Newt said again as Alby led him away._

_But._

_He wasn’t dead._

↮

_Gally looked around, confused. Minho stood next to him, looking out of place._

_“What the hell is this?” Gally grumbled, looking up at the humongous walls rising on either side of him. There was a corridor leading off to the right, and then one leading to the left. Minho shrugged and started walking forward to the door of light at the end._

_“Woah! Woah! Hold up!” Gally exclaimed, running after him and grabbing his arm, “where the hell are you going?!”_

_Minho pointed his thumb at the door,_

_“Where do you think, Shank?” he shrugged his brother again and started walking. Gally matched his step,_

_“Hey! Don’t you know anything about how a door of light leads to heaven?! Are we dead?!”_

_“Chill, bro,” Minho rolled his eyes, “we’re not dead, just asleep. And no way are you going anywhere near Heaven anyway. If this is a hell door…well, I’d expect it to be more magnificent.”_

_Gally had to admit that Minho had a point. The two walked towards the door without a word. Minho’s step didn’t falter as he stepped through the wall of light. Gally gulped and stepped in after him._

_The two found themselves in a wooden house, or a shack more like, with wooden walls, no glass in the window, and two beds. One of the beds was occupied by none other than Newt himself._

_“Oh my God!” Minho exclaimed and pulled Newt into his arms. He ignored the fact that he couldn’t feel the other boy, “you’re alright.”_

_“Not really,” Newt winced. Gally stared at him._

_“What’s with the clothes?” Minho quirked an eyebrow taking in Newt’s weird, too-big shirt and brown leather pants. The blonde rolled his eyes,_

_“It’s what the Gladers wear.”_

_“Gladers?” Gally asked, confusion evident in his eyes._

_“I don’t have time to explain,” Newt sighed. Gally’s eyes widened,_

_“Wait! Wait! You’re not…y-you’re not saying goodbye, are you?!” the boy demanded. Newt stared at his feet, “Newt you’re not dying on us!”_

_“I’m sorry guys. I…I don’t know what I’ll do,” Newt said quietly, “I can choose my own path, try to wake up or move on.”_

_“Well wake up, of course!” Minho said like it was the most obvious thing ever, “unless…did you really commit suicide?”_

_“No!” Newt scoffed, “Of course not. My father forced me.”_

_A knock sounded on the door and Newt’s expression fell._

_“You have to go,” he said._

_“Go where?” Gally yelled. The light flashed…_

Gally sat up in bed sweating, heart beating madly. He pressed his hand to his heart and tried to take deep calming breaths. He had a weird dream…and Newt was in it, and Minho…but already the details were escaping his head…

Later, at breakfast, which was a solemn and miserable affair, Minho mentioned having a weird dream as well. Gally shrugged it off.

↮

_Newt pondered over the maps in the map room. His hands traced the dark lines that the gladers have drew. He wasn’t really studying the maps…more like, he was thinking._

_All of it was too much – meeting Thomas, his father attempting to kill him, the Glade, Minho and Gally visiting. Newt sighed and stared at the map, looking for answers._

_Alby explained to him that some of the gladers were ‘runners’ who went into the maze, but instead of choosing to move on, came back with the maps of the maze. Well…sometimes they came back._

_From the centre of the glade, four corridors led off, and there were multiple twists and turns and Newt’s eyes went blurry just from trying to comprehend what he was seeing. All the corridors of the maze stopped abruptly at some point, and every corner of the page was white. Over the blankness was written; **Heaven? Hell? Purgatory?** And finally, **Home?**_

_Newt’s fingers unconsciously ran over the Home corridor. Something squeezed his heart even though he couldn’t really feel the paper under his hands._

_“Newt?” Alby asked gently. Newt looked up,_

_“What’s up?” he asked._

_“Someone’s here to see you…upstairs,” Alby said. He had sad eyes. Since he’d been here, nobody had come to visit him. After all, three years was a long time. Newt came outside, into the night air. The gladers were all sitting round campfires, talking and laughing, not quite ready to sleep. They looked like normal teenage boys, out for a trip, but Newt knew none of them could taste the juicy steaks or feel the warmth of the fire._

_Alby led him to the wooden shack and stood solemnly outside. Newt gave him a nervous smile and then let himself in, running up the creaky stairs. He burst into the room, and there stood his two sisters, clutching each other’s hands. Brenda’s eyes widened,_

_“Newt?” she asked in disbelief. Teresa ran and enveloped him in a hug. A cold shiver ran down Newt’s thin frame, he couldn’t feel her body heat or her hands clinging onto her back._

_“Are you okay?” the girl asked, stepping back, “What is this place? Did they hurt you? Are you in pain, what hurts Newt?!”_

_“Nothing hurts,” Newt offered her a smile and gently shrugged her off._

_“How are you here?” Teresa frowned, “you’re asleep…unless…did you wake up?!”_

_“No,” Brenda answered for him, looking right into his soul, “He’s still asleep.”_

_“Oh Newt,” Teresa whispered and reached for his face. The blonde flinched, “What can we do?!”_

_“You can’t do anything.” He whispered sadly, “You just have to wake up.”_

_“But…You can’t! You can’t wake up!” Brenda protested._

↮

Thomas, Brenda, Tessa, Minho and Gally sat around a round table in Starbucks near the hospital. They couldn’t handle the hospital café anymore, not with the crying kids and sobbing parents.

But the atmosphere in Starbucks wasn’t much better. It was two in the afternoon on a Wednesday, Thomas didn’t go to his job interview, didn’t call his mother, Gally and Teresa didn’t go to work, Brenda and Minho skipped school to see their comatose brother. Nobody was saying anything.

Minho was on his third black coffee, Brenda was aimlessly mixing her caramel Frappuccino, Gally was eating a bagel and Teresa’s tea cup clanked against her teeth every time she raised it to her lips. Thomas just stared at his fruit mix with distaste. He didn’t even want it.

“This is ridiculous,” he said. Gally looked up,

“What is?” he asked, furrowing his thick eyebrows.

“That Newt’s in there, unconscious for god knows how long, and his bastard of a father still hasn’t been caught.”

Minho snorted, but it lacked any real amusement,

“What do we propose we do, Sherlock Holmes?” he asked sarcastically, “catch him ourselves?”

“Exactly,” Brenda said suddenly, a twinkle in her eye. She took a sip of her Frappuccino.

“And how exactly do you want to do that?” Tessa asked sceptically putting her tea cup down. Thomas bit his lip – he hadn’t thought that far ahead…

“What if…,” he started, and made eye contact with the siblings. Tessa looked tired, her makeup smudged under her vibrant blue eyes, Gally was glaring as usual, Minho wasn’t smiling which was _unusual._ Brenda was just smiling softly at Thomas, “Well, what if we lie?”

“What do you mean?” Teresa’s brow furrowed.

“What if we pretend that Newt has woke up? That he’s fine and healthy,” Thomas was suddenly excited, “wouldn’t his father come and try to finish the job?! And then we could get him!”

“We’d have to convince the doctors and our mother,” Minho leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. Thomas knew he had him.

“This could work!” Brenda grinned. Gally and Teresa exchanged uneasy looks,

“Alright, I guess it can’t hurt Newt,” the girl finally admitted, throat tight.

↮

_Newt sat on the grass, watching the doors. It was late afternoon, and the Glade was warm. All around him work went on, the builders put up a new house, the slicers were murdering some poor, innocent pig for dinner. Newt sighed and buried his face in his knees. He wondered if he should start getting used to this; this horrible sense of loneliness even as he was surrounded by people, never being able to feel another person’s touch, never feeling the sun rays on his skin even as they blinded him._

_He couldn’t do that. He just couldn’t._

_But when the time came, which road would he choose? Would he pick heaven or hell or try to fight his way back home. Newt wanted to go home, so bad that it hurt. He wanted to hear Minho’s cheesy jokes and let him tell him about his one night stands, telling him how gross he was. He wanted Teresa to baby him when he felt ill, making him warm tea with honey and tucking him in as if he was a kid. He wanted to hold onto Brenda’s promise that they’d sneak to Vegas for their next birthday (if he lived until then ). He wanted to annoy Gally and hug him just to see if he would finally smile, and he wanted to tell his aunt how much he loved and appreciated her. And he wanted to see Tommy again; and tell him what could’ve been._

_What could’ve been._

_Newt looked up, and frowned. A dim, blue light was coming through the purgatory doors of the Maze. Shakily, Newt got up and speed-walked to the massive entrance. As he neared, he glanced around. There was nobody close by, and everyone seemed pretty busy with their jobs. Nobody paid Newt much attention as he slipped into the Maze._

_His heart pounded in his chest as all noise dimmed around him, as if the maze cast a spell on him. The walls shielded any of the light from coming near Newt, and they were overgrown with long vines that brushed against the blonde’s face, reminding him of spiders. He shivered and then jogged to catch up with the light._

_As soon as he rounded the corner and lost sight of the way back home, he saw her. A middle-aged blonde woman stood in front of him. Her clothes were white, her hair pinned back in a bun, a sad, but warm smile on her face._

_“My little Newt,” she breathed._

_“M-Mom?” Newt asked in disbelief. The woman nodded, and Newt started toward her, “did you come to take me? Am I dead?!” the boy demanded, suddenly terrified. He wanted to run back to the Glade, he wasn’t ready…_

_“No, it’s alright. Don’t come closer though,” his mother spoke softly, soothingly. Newt froze._

_“How are you here?” he asked quietly. Ava smiled,_

_“For years I have been in purgatory, making up for my bad deeds.” She explained, “and I have been awaiting you. My son, my baby boy.”_

_“You’ve been here for sixteen years?” Newt asked, his mouth suddenly dry. He was cold, so, so cold…_

_“It’s a long pay for suicide,” Ava said sadly, “for leaving my baby behind.”_

_“Why did you?” Newt asked, his heart clenching, his eyes filling with tears, “why did you leave me, mom?”_

_“Oh my sweet boy,” a tear rolled down the woman’s cheek, “If I could only turn it back…but it’s too late. What’s been done cannot be undone, what’s lost cannot be replaced,” he hand reached forward as if to touch Newt, but dropped at the last second. Ava took a deep breath, “I’m proud of you my boy, and there is not much time. You must listen carefully – there are hard times to come. You will have to choose your path and get past the monsters and obstacles waiting for you, and then wake up.”_

_“What if  I don’t want to?” Newt asked defiantly._

_“You have to,” Ava shook her head, “people are waiting for you. Your family. Someone will come to help you.”_

_“What about you?”_

_Ava smiled,_

_“I’ll wait.” Then she froze, “you must go.” She said sharply all of a sudden, “Quickly! Run! The doors are closing!” he voice rose in panic._

_“B-But mom-”_

_“Go!” Ava ordered, walking backward, “Go! You have to wake up!”_

_The urgency in her voice made Newt’s heart stutter and he began running. He rounded the corner, lost sight of his mother, and sprinted for the door. It began to rumble, slowly closing. Panic rose in Newt’s chest, and he felt sick. He had to make it…_

_Newt’s lungs weren’t burning, his legs didn’t hurt, he couldn’t hear anything except his unsteady heartbeat, but somehow he felt the coldness creeping up his neck. He sped up, he was so close…the ground shook as the stone walls came closer together._

_A root caught Newt’s shoe and he fell to the ground. He smashed down, but didn’t feel any pain, only the cold surrounding him. His teeth chattered and he tried to force himself to his feet but his muscles were frozen…_

_“NEWT!” Alby bellowed, “Newt! Get up!”_

_The dark skinned boy had a strong arm wrapped around Newt’s waist, dragging him to his feet. Newt pressed against the other boy, but he couldn’t feel his body heat. He struggled to the exit, but his ankle wouldn’t cooperate , it throbbed and he was cold, so cold…_

_He and Alby spilled out onto the grass, surrounded by Gladers, just as the doors slammed shut._

↮

“Everything’s ready,” Minho said, sitting in a hard plastic chair next to Thomas. The brown-haired boys leg was jittering nervously. “It’ll be okay, we’ll catch him.” The Asian said reassuringly. Thomas nodded.

The police was positioned around the corridor, dressed in civil clothing. All the nurses have cleared out, to not get into the possible fight between Janson and the police. All of the Agnes siblings were sitting downstairs, along with Thomas, in a separate room. A police officer stood by the door, and suddenly his radio cackled,

“The suspect has entered the hospital.” A voice sounded.

“Roger that,” the police officer muttered. Thomas’ heart sped up. Oh God, the almost-murderer of Newt was so close…so close…

Shouting sounded up from upstairs and all the teenagers looked up at the ceiling. A gun shot sounded, then another one. A scream. Thomas felt like he was going to be sick. And then a thought hit him.

What if Janson got to Newt? What if he killed him….

Thomas got to his feet and sprinted across the room, ducking under the officer’s arm before the man had time to react. He made it up the stairs, the officer yelling after him. Thomas burst into Newt’s corridor. The officers were all taking cover from Janson, who stood in the middle of the corridor, a weird device in his hand…

“Evacuate the building!” an officer muttered into her radio, “evacuate!”

Thomas eyed the man up and down. He was holding a bomb. Thomas froze.

“Oh God,” he whispered.

“Thomas,” Janson spat, still grinning like a maniac, “how nice to see you. Still trying to protect your little boyfriend? Just like when you were children. I should’ve killed you then.”

“Put down the bomb,” Thomas said shakily, “why are you doing this?”

“Why?!” Janson roared, suddenly angry, “WHY?! Because Ava took everything from me! My life! Wanted a divorce, wanted me to pay for that…that bastard!” the man pointed at Newt’s closed room with his free hand, “like I would do that! Got me into court! Into jail for hitting her! Stupid bitch. She didn’t deserve me, and now she’s gone but my life’s still fucked. So I’m gonna kill that little son of mine,” Janson said venomously, “before I’m forced to wear those stripes again.”

“He didn’t do anything!” Thomas yelled. The police was trying to get him to back up, but he pushed past them angrily, “he was just a kid! He’s still just a kid, for God’s sakes! He doesn’t want anything from you!”

“But I want him to die!” Janson screamed, like it made any sense.

“Let me get him,” Thomas begged, “Please. Let me get him out.”

“ _Hospital’s been evacuated,”_ a voice sounded from the radio. Janson laughed,

“Looks like it’s just you and me and him and them,” he chuckled. He gestured at the police officers, “You all have kids and families. How about you get outta here?”

“Sir, put down the bomb,” one officer asked calmly. Thomas turned to them,

“Go,” he said, “please. He’ll blow up the hospital.”

“Let the boys go,” another officer interjected. He was Hispanic and he stood up, standing next to Thomas, his gun raised, “you don’t have to do this. You can walk away. You won’t be charged with murder. You won’t have to die in this hospital.”

“Who says anything about me dying?” Janson asked. He put the bomb on the windowsill. It began ticking, “Goodbye, Thomas!” the man yelled, and then disappeared down the end of the corridor.

“Oh my God!” one of the officers cried out, “everyone get out! Get out!”

The officers scrambled to the doors. The Hispanic officer grabbed Thomas’ arm roughly.

“Let’s go!” he said, “we have to go! Now!”

“No!” Thomas shook him off and broke off into a run, slamming Newt’s door open. The blonde laid in his bed, deathly pale, looking like death, hooked to all these tubes and devices…Thomas made quick work of ripping the tubes away. Newt wasn’t bleeding he was barely breathing. “Please!” Thomas yelled at the Police officer. The man groaned but helped Thomas unplug Newt. The brunette pulled the blonde into his arms, wrapping his arms protectively around him. The police officer ran in front of him, opening doors quickly. The bomb ticked, counting down their time. How much time?

“Come on, kid!” the officer yelled. He broke out into the parking lot. Thomas followed, Newt weighing nothing in his arms, his head nestled into the crook of the brunette’s neck.

Thomas didn’t make it far before the bomb exploded and his vision became dark.   

↮

_“Greenie!” Alby yelled. Everyone whooped excitedly, and to anyone else it would’ve seem cruel, these boys were happy because another kid had committed suicide, but Newt knew the truth; the kid was here, meaning he still had a chance._

_Shivering despite the sunlight, Newt stood up and dragged himself across the Glade to the metal box in the middle, where supplies and newbies came through. Everyone crowded around as the thing creaked and groaned, pulling upwards. Newt looked on steadily, the two Med-Jacks at his side. Since he’d come here, two boys and three girls had come up. Newt didn’t really know how long it’s been._

_“Step back everyone!” Alby commanded, pushing interested Gladers back. Harriet, his second-in-command, rolled her eyes and stood where she was. However everyone else shuffled backwards. Newt found himself at the back of the group, but he didn’t really mind. He heard the now familiar creak as the trapdoor eased itself open._

_“You alright, Greenie?” Alby asked calmly, soothingly._

_“W-Who are you?!” a voice gasped, “where am I?!” Something nudged at Newt’s brain. The voice seemed familiar and…_

_“It’s alright,” Newt could vaguely see above the heads of all the Gladers surrounding him. Alby was pulling the new guy up, but all Newt could see was the back of his head. The back of his very familiar head._

_“T-Tommy?” he whispered in awe, mouth suddenly dry, heart beating fast. The brunette whirled around and Newt was met with wide, surprised whiskey-coloured eyes. Thomas’ hair was sticking up in different directions and there were smudges of ash on his cheeks and shirt.  All the Gladers turned to stare at Newt, Alby’s brows furrowed._

_“Newt.” Thomas breathed, realization dawning on him,“Oh my God, Newt.” In two steps the blonde was safely wrapped up in the taller boys arms. Thomas cradled him close, but Newt couldn’t feel anything, not his warmth, not his hands trailing up his back._

_“Hey there Tommy,” Newt said, voice hoarse. Thomas stepped back suddenly._

_“Newt I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”_

_“For what?” Newt asked, “Tommy what did you do?”_

_“I-I… it was my idea…,” Thomas ran a hand through his hair, panic in his eyes, “I told them…I said that we could catch Janson, pretend you’re awake, and get him to the hospital…t-to finish you off. The police was there b-but,” Thomas was shaking, “he had a bomb. Of_ course _he had a bomb.”_

_“What bomb?” Newt asked._

_“I don’t know,” Thomas growled, exasperated, “But he blew up the hospital. And I wasn’t fast enough, I didn’t get you out in time-”_

_“No, Tommy listen-”_

_“God, I’m so sorry,” Thomas pulled the startled Newt into his arms, “It’s my fault. You died because of me.”_

_A beat passed._

_“You’re not dead,” Alby spoke eventually. Newt gently untangled himself from Thomas’ arms, and smiled sadly at him. Thomas looked confused and surprised,_

_“What do you mean?” his brow furrowed. Newt sighed as Alby led Thomas off to the unlit campfire. He began explaining to him everything he told Newt about the Glade. The brunette kept glancing at Newt as he began to understand what really happened._

_“So we’re both in a coma now?” he clarified at the end._

_“Yes,” Newt murmured. Thomas was sitting next to him on the make-shift bench, their shoulders and knees touching. Newt wanted to reach out and take the brunette’s hand, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to feel it._

_“So what now?” Thomas asked hoarsely._

_“Now you decide; do you want to try out for heaven, hell, purgatory, or do you want to go back home,” Alby said solemnly._

_“Home.” Thomas decided, turning to Newt, “Newt we’re going home.”_

_Newt bit his lip._

_“I-I…we don’t have to decide now, I…” he trailed off, unsure what to say. Thomas reached out and brushed a piece of hair from Newt’s face. The blonde’s breath caught in his throat. Thomas was looking at him with so much warmth and care in his eyes that it made his heart speed up._

_“Newt,” Thomas said quietly, “do you know how long you’ve been asleep for?”_

_“N-No,” Newt’s voice was shaking, his hands were shaking. Thomas came and made his already unsteady world flip upside down, “A few weeks maybe?”_

_“Three months.” Thomas said. Newt’s breath went out in a ‘whoosh.’ “You’ve been in a coma for three months.”_

_“But,” Newt buried his face in his hands, “I’ve only been here for eight days. Eight days, Tommy…I need more time.”_

_“Newt…,” Thomas’ voice faltered. He sighed, “alright. Alright, I’ll give you all the time you want. You deserve it.”_

_“Thank you.” Newt turned and smiled at Thomas. The sky grew dark, one of the Gladers lit the campfire, but Newt was still cold despite the closeness of the flames. He could feel tears in his eyes, “I’m going to go lie down,” he told Thomas, and quickly walked away before the brunette could see him crying._

↮

_Newt stood at the room door. It was glassed over so he could easily look inside. On the bed, in pristine white covers, laid Thomas. He had tiny cuts on one side of his face, and his left hand was bandaged, his eyes closed. He was attached to all kinds of tubes and machines. Newt’s heart clenched._

_“It’s all our fault,” Teresa was crying. Newt whirled around and his eyes widened. Teresa and Minho were sitting on the plastic chairs, the girl’s eyes were red-rimmed, and the boy looked like he hadn’t slept for days, “now both of them are…” Teresa broke off in a sob. Minho put an arm around her,_

_“It’s alright,” he said reassuringly, “I’m sure those stupid shanks will come back to us,” he offered her a sad smile. Brenda walked in, carrying coffee, Gally close behind her._

_“Teresa stop crying,” Brenda snapped, “it’s not gonna make ‘em wake up.”_

_“Guys?” Newt said quietly. Nobody looked up at him._

_“I’m sorry,” Teresa sobbed, “I’m sorry that I’m mourning my brother, and my friend.”_

_“They’re not dead!” Brenda hissed. Gally sighed,_

_“At least Janson’s in prison.”_

_“At least?!” Teresa asked in disbelief, “are you serious right now?! Thomas and Newt are dying, and you’re worried about Janson!?”_

_Newt felt himself floating away from the scene. He woke up with tears running down his cheeks, and Thomas’ hand on his shoulder. Newt stifled a sob._

_“Newt?” Thomas asked gently._

_“Let’s go Tommy,” Newt whispered, “let’s go home.”_

_↮_

_Alby handed Newt a backpack, a sad but proud smile on his face. Newt finished the last, lopsided letter of his name on the wall._

_“Good luck to you both,” Alby said. He didn’t try to touch either of them, he knew that they wouldn’t feel it anyway, but his voice was warm, and his smile was genuine._

_“And you?” Thomas asked, shouldering his backpack, “what are you going to do.”_

_Alby exchanged a look with Harriet, who was next to him._

_“I am trying out for heaven,” he said, “I think I’ve done enough. I’m leaving Harriet in charge of the Glade.”_

_“Good luck, man,” Thomas said._

_“To you too Harriet,” Newt added, “to all of you.” He turned to the Gladers._

_Chuck came over and pressed a chess piece into Newt’s hand,_

_“When you make it, give this to my mom for me?” he asked sweetly. Newt ruffled his head,_

_“I don’t think I’ll have it with me. You’ll give it to her yourself,” he winked. Chuck shook his head._

_“I want you to tell my parents to turn off the machine keeping me alive.”_

_“W-What?” Newt asked, horrified, “b-but Chuck-”_

_“I’ve been here for three years,” Chuck bit his lip, “it’s time for me to go, but I don’t want to choose. Please, Newt?”_

_Newt enveloped him in a hug, but he couldn’t feel anything. Chuck smiled,_

_“Okay big man,” the blonde whispered, “you’re so brave. I’ll tell them.”_

_Chuck gave him a ‘thumbs up.’_

_“Well…goodbye everyone,” Thomas said. The Gladers all waved and cheered as Thomas and Newt turned around, sprinting into the Maze._

↮

_After about four hours the two stopped for their third break. Newt’s ankle felt like it was encrusted with ice, but he couldn’t do anything about it. His chest ached, and his legs were shaky, but his breathing was steady. He didn’t understand it._

_“You alright?” Thomas asked. Newt nodded and forced a smile. “We’ll make it, I promise.”_

_“Thank you,” Newt said suddenly. Thomas looked confused,_

_“What for?” he asked._

_“You got me out of that hospital. You risked your life for me.” The blonde said with an easy laugh, “bloody shank. Did you already forget?”_

_“Sorry,” Thomas said sheepishly._

_“You saved my life,” Newt rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes, “I owe you.”_

_“No you don’t!” Thomas said, shaking his head._

_“Okay if I could do one thing for you, what would it be?” Newt grinned. By now the two were sitting down on the mossy ground, trying to relax their aching muscles. Newt was fiddling with Chuck’s chess piece. Thomas sat opposite him, and he had that look on his face, he was looking at Newt like he was the most precious thing in the world. It made Newt flush and look away._

_“Tell you what,” Thomas said, “if we get out of here…”_

_“Yeah?” Newt asked, a bit breathless._

_“You’ll give me a kiss,” there was a wicked gleam in Thomas’ eye and a teasing grin on his face. Newt burst out laughing even though his heart ached._

_“Sure, whatever,” he chuckled, “bloody shank.”_

_A terrible noise, like a scream, pierced the air. Newt froze and so did Thomas._

_“Here comes trouble,” the brunette said, pulling out a dagger._

_↮_

_Newt wiped the remains of the final Griever from his shirt. Fighting the monster must’ve been one of the most disgusting things that the blonde has ever done in his life. Thomas stood next to him, still clenching the dagger, staring at the Griever’s body. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wild._

_“Shit,” he said._

_“What?” Newt asked. Thomas started laughing, and the blonde soon joined, slightly hysterical._

_“I can’t believe I killed three Grievers.”_

_“Two.”_

_“What?” Thomas asked, puzzled._

_“You killed two,” Newt smirked, “I kicked the second one of the cliff.”_

_“What?!” Thomas groaned, “no way…”_

_“Come on idiot, we can’t be that far from the way out,” Newt smiled. Thomas put his dagger away._

_“Lead the way,” he grinned. Newt rolled his eyes and then continued walking. The maze was killing him; so many twists and turns. He and Thomas were blindly stumbling around, trying to find a way out. For all Newt knew it could take minutes, or hours, or days or maybe even years. And what if his family decided to unplug him before they made it out…?_

_Newt was so lost in thought that he forgot to pay attention to where he was going. He stumbled suddenly, his heart flying to his throat, but Thomas steadied him quickly._

_“Fuck’s sake, Newt,” the brunette grumbled, still holding onto Newt, “you need to-” he trailed off, a dazed look in his eyes as he stared at the blonde’s lips. He started to lean in._

_It grew colder._

_A roar echoed through the Maze. Thomas and Newt jumped apart._

_“LOOK WHO IT IS!” a familiar voice bellowed. Janson. Newt tensed, “MY ONE AND ONLY CHILD. WELCOME, BOY!”_

_“Where are you?!” Newt demanded, “what are you doing here?! You’re meant to be in prison!”_

_“OH YES!” Janson hissed, voice echoing off the Maze walls. Thomas stepped closer to Newt, a protective hand on his wrist, “I WAS IN PRISON. YOU PUT ME THERE YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD. BUT I HAVE FOUND A WAY OUT;THE OH SO GLORIOUS WAY OUT, A WAY THAT MEANS I CAN KILL YOU.”_

_“W-What?” Thomas stuttered._

_“Suicide.” Newt’s mouth was dry. He felt feverish, “he committed suicide.”_

_“BRAVO, BOY.” Janson laughed gleefully, “AND THIS TIME YOU WON’T ESCAPE ME. YOUR THOMAS WON’T BE ABLE TO SAVE YOU FROM WHAT I HAVE IN STORE FOR YOU.”_

_Thomas shoved Newt roughly behind him and drew his dagger._

_“YOU MAY TRY AND PROTECT HIM, BOY,” Janson roared, “BUT I HAVE SOLD MY SOUL TO THE DEVIL, AND IN RETURN I HAVE BECOME INDESTRUCTIBLE.”_

_A shadow appeared at the corner of the maze, and soon it swallowed up Newt and Thomas. The blonde fell to his knees, suddenly overcome with cold. He began trembling, his lips grew blue._

_“Newt!” Thomas dropped down next to the blonde. He looked fine, but Newt’s eyelashes became covered in frost, his hair interlaced with ice. “Newt! Newt what’s wrong?!”_

_“S’ cold…,” Newt mumbled. He couldn’t keep himself up. Thomas wrapped his arms around the blonde. It was like holding an ice cube. Janson’s voice ran through the Maze._

_“FIGHT ME THOMAS,” he yelled, “FIGHT ME. YOU CAN’T SAVE HIM BUT YOU CAN DIE TRYING.”_

_Thomas stumbled to his feet. Newt curled in a ball on the floor. A figure rose above them. Thomas had to crane his neck upwards to be able to take Janson’s new body in. He saw bat-like, leathery wings, extended over the Maze, glimmering scales, fiery green eyes, sharp teeth and talons…_

_“A dragon?!” Thomas groaned, “are you serious?!”_

_“FIGHT ME, THOMAS,” Janson hissed, “SEE IF YOU CAN BEAT ME.”_

_Thomas looked at his flimsy dagger and swore. What now?_

_“Thomas!” Teresa yelled. She was suddenly standing next to him, half-see-through like a ghost. Her face was determined, her face dirty, her hair tangled. Her dark-green trousers disappeared into nothing at about knee length._

_“Teresa?!” Thomas looked at her in disbelief._

_“He’s barely breathing!” Gally informed them, from where his see-through hands were brushing over Newt’s icy form. Thomas’ whole being hurt – the blonde was pale, like snow, shivering, and Thomas couldn’t do anything._

_“I can’t do anything,” he whispered without thinking about it._

_“Yes you can!” Brenda was standing right in front of him, her brown eyes angry, hands balled into fists,_

_“Fight him you shank!” Minho groaned, a bit further away. Janson laughed._

_“With what?!” Thomas asked, looking helplessly at his dagger._

_“Oh for God’s sake…,” Gally grumbled. He clicked his fingers and Thomas’ sword elongated into a long broadsword._

_“HOW LOVELY,” Janson roared, “THIS WILL BE MUCH MORE FUN.”_

_“Fight!” Teresa screamed. Thomas lunged forward. He slashed the sword at the dragon’s legs, and ducked under them when Janson tried to crush him. Thomas went on auto-pilot, he grabbed the dragon’s wing and hauled himself up, sprinting up the leathery skin and onto Janson’s back. The dragon bellowed in rage, as Thomas slashed at his scaly neck. Wounds opened on the dragon’s skin and black ichor oozed out. The dragon blew ice instead of fire, and Brenda, Minho and Teresa had to duck to avoid the icy shards. Gally dragged Newt further away, trying to keep him safe._

_Thomas stabbed at Janson’s neck, but the dragon’s skin was too thick for his sword to do any real damage._

_“Little help here!” Thomas yelled at his friends. Brenda clapped her hands and the sword morphed into a rocket launcher. Thomas almost fell off Janson because of how heavy it was. “What the hell?!”_

_“Go big or go home,” Brenda shrugged. Minho deflected a piece of ice coming her way with a wave of his hand._

_“Shit!” Teresa said suddenly, and disappeared._

_“What happened?!” Thomas demanded._

_“She woke up!” Gally yelled, “hurry up! He’s dying!” and then he too was gone. Minho and Brenda exchanged panicked looks._

_“Get yourselves home!” Minho yelled. Thomas tripped and fell off Janson the dragon, but he didn’t have time to scream because Brenda caught him with a swish of air. Now the boy was back on the ground with this goddamn rocket launcher, facing Janson._

_“WELL YOUR FRIENDS ARE GONE NOW,” the dragon screeched. Thomas turned around. Except for Newt’s iced over body there was nobody else in the Maze, “JUST GIVE UP. YOU CAN’T BEAT ME WITH A ROCKET LAUNCHER.”_

_A stupid thought appeared in Thomas’ brain, but it was his best shot. He deflated._

_“Let me say goodbye at least,” he asked in a sad voice. Janson laughed,_

_“BE MY GUEST.”_

_Thomas ran over to Newt, his back to Janson, and cradled the boy close. His eyes were closed, icicles’ decorating his hair. He was breathing shallowly. Thomas leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead._

_The blonde’s eyes fluttered open._

_“T-Tommy?” he murmured._

_“Newt, I need you to get up and run when I tell you,” the brunette whispered into his ear. Newt shivered, “could you do that?”_

_“Y-Yeah,” Newt nodded weakly. Thomas pulled him to his feet. The blonde stumbled but stayed upright, teeth clattering. Thomas held onto his hand._

_“AW HOW SWEET,” Janson laughed, “YOU TWO WILL DIE TOGETHER. I DON’T CARE, AS LONG AS YOU’RE GONE.”_

_Thomas thought hard. He imagined the rocket launcher in his hand transforming into a bomb, he imagined the wires and timer, the ticking. He squeezed Newt’s hand and then in his hand appeared a bomb._

_“WHAT IS THAT-”_

_“RUN!” Thomas yelled, and threw the bomb at Janson. He didn’t stay to see if he hit the target, instead pulling Newt along, under Janson’s wing. He saw a doorway, a dark, dark doorway to his left. He prayed it was the right one._

_“THOMAS!” Janson bellowed. A bang echoed. Thomas’ ears rang, he stumbled, but Newt was the one pulling him along now. The two exploded into the doorway, everything swam in Thomas’ vision…_

_↮_

The ceiling was a horrible, bleached cable. Newt’s eyes fluttered open. The machines around him were beeping. The soft hospital gown brushed against his skin. His muscles were cramped, his head hurt. He was awake.

Newt sat up abruptly and the world span. It was the evening. His room was quiet, the bedside lamp turned on. Newt was squeezing Chuck’s chess piece in his hand. He didn’t know how it got there.

He was alone in his room, and it all came rushing back to him; Janson forcing him to kill himself, the Glade, Alby and Chuck, seeing his mom and all of his siblings. Thomas appearing, the run through the Maze, killing the Grievers. The cold chilling his bones; the dragon and Thomas forcing him up.

Newt angrily ripped the tubes from his arm. He had tears in his eyes. He wanted to go find Thomas, Teresa and Minho, Brenda and Gally, his aunt…but first he had to find Chuck. There could be no more time.

Newt stumbled out into the corridor, gripping the chess piece. He found a nurse a floor below him.

“Sir?” she asked, brow furrowed, “why are you-”

“Could you tell me where Chuck’s room is?” he asked hastily, “please?”

“I…who?”

“C-Chuck…,” Newt said. His knees knocked together, his legs shaking. He was so tired, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep – not for a long time, “um…small, curly hair…he’s t-twelve I think?”

“Oh,” the nurse smiled, “little Charlie?”

“Yes,” Newt guessed, “he’s in a coma. Could you give me the room number please? I have something of his.”

“Well…,” the nurse bit her lip.

“Please,” Newt must’ve looked pretty pathetic because the nurse eventually gave him the room  number. The blonde ran as fast as he could on his unsteady legs to the room.

Inside, both of Chuck’s parents sat at his bedside. Newt stared at them through the glass; Chuck was pale and so much thinner than he was in the Glade, he didn’t have rosy cheeks, his hair was limp and not curly. Newt’s heart ached, he could feel tears gathering, he didn’t know if he could do it…

Chuck’s mother looked up and walked to the door. She opened it,

“Can I help you, honey?” she asked gently. She looked tired.

“I…um,” Newt stuttered. “I have something…from Chuck.”

“From Chuck?” the mother frowned and glanced at her husband.

“Well…you see it’s all awfully complicated,” Newt explained, “I just woke up from a coma…um, I-I…it’s so hard to explain but you have to believe me.”

Chuck’s mom stepped out into the corridor and shut the door gently behind her.

“Go on.” She said. Newt pulled the sleeves of his shirt over his hands nervously.

“Well, there’s this place. It’s called the Glade and um…it’s where suiciders go.”

“Chuck didn’t commit suicide,” the woman interrupted, “he fell out of  a window.”

“Jumped.” Newt said quietly, “he jumped out of a window.”

“Oh God.” Chuck’s mom covered her mouth with her hand.

“And…in the Glade there were all these suiciders, and I ended up there too…and well, I met Chuck. He…H-he gave me this.” Newt hesitantly pressed the chess piece into the woman’s hand. Both their hands were shaking.

“It’s the chess piece from the collection I gave him,” the woman was now crying.

“He said,” Newt took a deep breath, fighting back the sob, “he said that you should take him off life support.”

“W-What?” the woman gasped.

“He said take him off life support. He doesn’t know what to do, where to go. Which path to choose. He doesn’t want to choose; he wants you to choose for him, he doesn’t want to fight.” Newt said in a rush, “and I promised. I promised to tell you. I promised,” he broke down, tears running down his face. Chuck’s mother was crying silently.

“Thank you,” she said gently, “thank you, child.” She returned to the room. She cried on her husband’s shoulder, he clutched her as she delivered the news. They called a nurse. Newt took one last look at Chuck’s sleeping form.

“…yes, patient from room eighteen woke up from a coma a few minutes ago…” a pair of nurses hurried past.

_Thomas._

Newt took off running. He pushed past  the two startled nurses, and past all the patients. He ran downstairs, breathing hard, heart struggling to keep up.

_Thomas. Thomas. Thomas._

He heard him before he saw him.

“Where is he?!” Thomas yelled, “Let go! Let me see him!”

Newt burst into the corridor, out of breath, cheeks flushed. Brenda and Teresa were restraining Thomas who looked agitated. Two nurses and a doctor were trying to calm him down. Newt’s aunt was there too. All of their heads snapped up when they heard Newt.

“Newt.” Brenda whispered, a slow smile appearing on her face. Thomas broke out of her grip and ran across the corridor. Newt met him halfway and let Thomas wrap his arms around his waist, as he stood on his tiptoes, cupping the brunette’s face and kissing him feverishly. And just like that, the cold was gone. Thomas kissed him back like his life depended on it, arms tightening around the blonde’s waist, pulling him closer. The taller boy pulled away, and touched Newt’s face, brushing his over-grown hair behind his ear.

“You’re alright,” he whispered, smiling, “you’re okay.”

“I love you,” Newt blurted. It was as if they were in their own little bubble; not paying attention to everyone staring at them. Thomas peppered kisses all over his face. Then he froze,

“Chuck-” he began. Newt’s tears spilled down his cheeks.

“I told them,” he murmured, “they’re taking him off now.” He broke off in a sob. Thomas hugged him, keeping him close. Newt clutched the brunette’s shirt and buried his face in the crook of his neck. He was safe and _warm_ and for the first time in God knows how long, he could feel. He felt the heat radiating off of Thomas’ body, his fingers digging into his shoulder and hip, the muscles moving in his back.

He suddenly remembered his family. Thomas stepped away from Newt, and immediately the blonde was enveloped in a hug by Teresa. Brenda and Minho and Gally followed quickly. Teresa was crying.

“Thank you,” Newt told them, as they clung onto him.

“What for?” Gally asked. Newt just smiled,

“Don’t worry,” he said. Then he gently extracted himself from his siblings and walked over to his adoptive-mother. She was crying.

“Oh Newt, my little Newt,” she whispered, opening her arms. He hugged her fiercely.

“I love you, mom.” He said. She cried harder. All of them ended up crying; even Minho. But as Newt was surrounded by all the nurses and his family and _Thomas_ he knew that he was okay. Thomas woke him up, and there would be time for Newt to grieve his friends; Alby and Chuck, Harriet and Winston, who never woke up. There would be a time for him to see Sonya, who awakened almost three months before the blonde, and there would be a time to forget the Glade, and go on living.

Newt was never cold again, not with Thomas right there next to him.


	6. Snow Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' dad goes missing and he's stuck with Kate, the psychotic bitch. Until said bitch decides to murder him and Stiles meets seven wolves...who aren't really wolves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely sorry this took so long, if you've been keeping up you know I started a bunch of projects.  
> But yeah, here this is...  
> sorry it's a bit rushed.  
> Enjoy, please leave comments and kudos <3

**Snow Stiles**  

Claudia Stilinski and John Stilinski were a happy, married couple. John was a sheriff at the police station in Beacon Hills, while his wife stayed at home and painted and sold some of her stuff.

Their love didn’t die even after ten years of marriage, they still bickered and laughed as if it was their first month together. But they weren’t completely happy because they didn’t have a child, no matter how much they tried. John drank at night while his wife cried into her pillow, and then he’d come and hug her and whisper soothing things in her ear, and tell her that he loved her, and she would just keep crying and cradling her life-less stomach.

"I wish we had a little boy," she'd tell her husband in the dark, clinging onto him, "a small, pale little boy. With eyes like your favourite whiskey."

One of the days John woke up to find his wife in the bathroom, leaning over the toilet, throwing up. The man held back her hair and pressed a gentle hand to her back and then drove her to the doctors.

And there it was. The most awaited words; _"You're pregnant.”_

John’s and Claudia’s life turned upside down. The smiles never left their faces, they shopped for clothes and toys, John made a bed for their baby during the night and Claudia painted the spare room with flowers and birds and sunshine. Their love grew even more, if that was even possible, and they couldn't stop hugging and kissing, planning their future together as the life swelled inside Claudia. It was all perfect. It was all _meant_ to be perfect.

Then, nine months later, John drove frantically to the hospital, on signal, as Claudia screamed in the backseat, clutching her stomach, legs spread as the seats wet with blood and water. They made it to the hospital in a wild blur and John’s wife was wheeled away to another room while he was told to wait. And wait he did, until he got a call from work about a murder and he just _had_ to go. He had to.

When he got back, tired, with blood stains on his uniform, John found his wife cradling their baby boy. Their small, pale little boy with eyes like his favourite whiskey. John was mesmerized by the baby's beauty and he reached out to take his child into his arms.

“What should we call him?” he asked gently, a smile blooming on his face. Claudia pulled her arms away from John, and cradled the baby to her side, away from his father.  

“You weren’t here!” she said accusingly, tear marks still fresh down her cheeks, but there was anger in her eyes, “you missed his birth!”

"Baby...I'm sorry," John's voice faltered.

"Where will you be if something happens to me?!" Claudia spat, "You're a terrible father! You don't deserve us!"

Two months later Claudia Stilinski died in a car crash. It was all a muddle for John – court cases and black clothes and candles and sad hugs and all through it his newborn crying, and crying. John didn't know how to make it better, for himself or his little boy. The man couldn’t stand to call his child what his dead wife called him, that name that flowed so beautifully from her mouth, so instead he called him Stiles. Stiles, don’t touch that. Stiles, come over here. Stiles, stop crying. Stiles, don't do that. 

 _Your child has anxiety_ , the doctors told him, _your son has ADHD. Your son isn't normal._

The years were filled with empty Aderall bottles and empty vodka glasses, beer cans and papers to sign, court cases and hospitals. John couldn’t handle it, not when he had to pick up his four year old kid from school because the boy wouldn’t stop crying, and couldn’t catch his breath and was having _another_ panic attack. 

That’s why he married.

Not for love, not for money, not for status, not because Kate Argent was beautiful or rich, but because she could deal with Stiles and his _goddamn_ panic attacks.

↮

_The seven kids were out in the woods, pushing past trees, branches scratching at their faces, roots tripping them up. It was cold and yet they were sweating as they raced through the trees, like the devil was chasing them. And maybe he was._

_"Run!" the oldest one, a boy with dark hair and eyes, yelled, "Go on run!"_

_"I-I can't," a redheaded girl gasped as she leaned against the tree. Her perfect ringlets were a mess, "I-I..."_

_"Lydia!" the older boy yelled, "Come on!"_

_A cross bolt arrow swirled past them and embedded itself in an oak._

_"We're going to fucking die!" a boy in a scarf whimpered as he stumbled over a root and almost fell. It was dark, the shadows seemed to move, the fear of the kids was tangible._

_"There's a warehouse up ahead," the oldest boy said, trying to catch his breath, "We could go hide-"_

_The man appeared out of nowhere, blocking the way that the teenagers were about to run in. His face was hidden by a cloak. A blonde girl screamed and stumbled back. The boy with the crooked jaw tried to turn and run back in the direction they came, but there was a cloaked woman there. In fact, there were figures all around the, melting from trees._

_"No...," the redheaded girl whimpered. The circle closed in and the seven teens were pushed together. They clung onto one another as the hooded figures began to chant in a weird language that sent shivers down their spines. The ground shook, the wind picked up, clouds rolled across the sky, angry and grey. Lightening struck close by, setting fire to a tree in a flash of amber. When it passed, instead of the seven kid, there were seven wolves in a clearing._

↮

“We’re so sorry, Stiles,” Jordan Parrish said, a frown on his forehead. He actually looked sad. He sat opposite Stiles at the table. “He’s lost in action.”

“Oh.” Was all Stiles said, staring at his hands. His pale, shaking hands. He should’ve expected it to happen, so many disappearances in Beacon Hills…and his father was so brave, going after all the leads…and now he was gone, too. 

‘Lost in action.’

"Oh."

↮

A week after his father's disappearance Stiles woke up in his own bed in his own room in his and his father’s and _Kate’s_ house to the sound of loud music. The teenage boy sighed to himself and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Light steamed in through the window, illuminating the room, grey and cold. Immediately a wave of grief hit the boy. His dad was gone, and Kate was downstairs, playing her little game of charades. It was a tug of war, who would go first. _It's my house,_ Stiles thought bitterly.

Rubbing the tears out of his eyes furiously, the boy threw the covers away. He stumbled to the bathroom to fix himself up a bit, not that anything would help his overall spastic appearance. Pale skin, lanky figure, too thin, weird moles, weird eyes, weird hair. Frustrated, Stiles ran a hand through his close-cropped hair and then turned away from the mirror. He went up to his door and blessed himself (even though God wouldn't help him now) before descending to meet his worst enemy; Kate Argent.

The woman _hated_ Stiles with a burning passion. The boy had tried to get along with her, he really did. But she seemed to hate everything about him – his appearance, big mouth and sarcasm, the fact that he tried to keep his dad healthy and that he was incredibly smart. She hated all of it, and it was just a matter of time before she sent Stiles away. The boy shuddered thinking of all the possible outcomes. Boarding school seemed like the best option, only dozens of boys picking on him because he was shit at lacrosse and because he was gay. The worst option was being buried in a ditch, and Stiles didn’t doubt Kate would be capable of that. He didn't know which option he preferred to be honest...life was tiresome nowadays.

The boy walked into the kitchen, and found Kate leaning against the counter, humming along to something on the radio, that she was blaring out ridiculously loud. There was a gun in her hand, pointed at Stiles, almost casually. The boy didn’t flinch; he knew this was coming. When he said Kate was a psychotic bitch he literally meant it. How many times did the two cook together and Kate would press a kitchen knife lightly over Stiles' fingers, and whisper into his ear 'You wouldn't miss your fingers, would you?" She even tried setting his covers on fire once. Thank Jesus Stiles was a light sleeper and woke up in time. But to the police she was an angel, a heartbroken widow, and she was very good at covering up her tracks.

“Kate.” Stiles sighed, eyeing the gun tiredly. Kate smiled creepily, toying with the weapon.

“I never liked you,” she admitted.

“Right back at you,” Stiles muttered, shoulders slumping, "bitch," he added viciously. Kate's eyes narrowed,

“Get your coat and your shoes. And get in the jeep,” she instructed, cocking her head to the side, her grin returning.

“Why?”

“We’re going to church,” she said, like it was good news, pressing her gun to Stiles’ forehead, "Bang," she said playfully.

↮

“Who’s he?” Stiles asked. Behind him and Kate sat a man with deep, sad lines in his face. He held a gun that seemed like an extension of his hand, and it was pointed at Stiles. His eyes were so sad that it was hard for the teenager to look at him.

“That’s Chris. My brother. He’s our hunter,” Kate said, keeping her eyes on the road, head bobbing along to whatever overhyped shit was playing on the radio.

“What do you hunt, Chris?” Stiles asked, his voice was steady but his hands were shaking. His tone was neutral.

“Wolves.” Chris said quietly.

“See, my dear brother here already has murder on his hands,” Kate grinned fondly at the man, “and killing another teenager is nothing for him. He’s very good at it-”

“Be quiet, Kate,” bitterness laced Chris’ voice, “I didn’t kill Allison. She’s just gone missing.”

“Missing, eh?” Kate was still smiling, “Just like John," her words send a pang through Stiles. Not for the first time he wondered if she could've had anything to do with it..., "Anyway, my bro doesn’t want me to go to prison. So he’ll do the dirty work for me.”

“What? Kill me?” Stiles raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Kate just tapped her nose, as if it was a secret. Hours had passed since they left Beacon Hills, and they were now speeding through a desert, well into Mexico, everything they knew disappearing into a cloud of ash somewhere far behind. Stiles didn’t know why they were here, but soon old ruins appeared in front of him; foundations of houses blown off as if bombs dropped on this place. The only thing standing was the old skeleton of a church, without any walls or furniture, down below a hill. Kate parked the car.

“La Iglesia,” Kate said proudly, as if she built the place, “Take him, Chris.” The sun was setting, melting behind the horizon, casting long shadows across the desert and the ruins. The woman turned to Stiles as her brother left the car, slamming the door, “Goodbye, Stiles,” she said almost sadly, reaching for his face. He flinched away, and she laughed,

“I hope you rot in hell, Kate,” Stiles spat, suddenly angry. Before he could do anything, Chris Argent had him by the arm and was roughly pulling him out of his jeep. The man forced Stiles down the steep slope, ignoring the teens protests. The boy had to go down sideways, raining sand and rocks onto the land below him, he didn't even get to look back at Kate. It was nice and warm outside, but Stiles was freezing. Chris didn’t talk, just pushed him onward. It felt surreal, Stiles knew he was walking to his death but the stone in his shoe was somehow bothering him more...

It was as if he didn't care. Stiles wondered if that made him a freak.

The two pushed their way through a graveyard with half-buried crosses beneath the sand. Stiles tried to ask questions as the church loomed closer, trying to get some closure on who the hell Chris even was.

“Who’s Allison?” “How many people did you kill?” “What’s so bad about wolves?” “Who are you exactly?”

Chris ignored him every time, pushing him onward. He was surprisingly strong.

By the time they reached the remains of the church, darkness had fully fallen and it was even colder. The chill seemed to seep through Stiles' clothes, right down to his body, and the boy didn't like it. The inside of the church was blackened, as if by fire, and there was no light, except for the moon steaming in through the broken remains of the stained glass windows. Chris and Stiles faced each other among the debris, the skeleton of the building above them like comforting arms.

"Did Kate kill my father?" Stiles asked. Chris didn't reply, and his gun clicked. He pointed it at Stiles, as if he had done it a thousand times. He probably had.

“You’re really going to do it,” the boy said in disbelief. It suddenly hit him. _He was going to die._ A deep terror rooted itself inside the boy and the fear made him dizzy. It was like getting slapped in the face suddenly, “you’re really going to kill me.”

Chris mouth was in a thin line as he steadied his hand with his other one. Stiles could see right down the barrel of the gun, and couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him.

“Oh man,” he gasped, “I don’t want to die. I just got that! All this time I thought that it didn’t matter because my dad was gone and I was alone with Kate. But now I realized that I don’t want to die! I want to fall in love and have kids and look for my dad and become a sheriff just like him! I don’t want to die in some abandoned old church in Mexico with some old geezer pointing a gun at my face-”

“Shut up!” Christ roared. Stiles flinched at the sudden outburst and bit his lip to stop the sob coming out. There was an ache in his chest, and his whole body was shaking, stomach twisting as if he was going to throw up. His eyes glazed over,

“Can y-you tell me about A-Allison?” he asked shakily. Chris’ expression softened slightly, “I’m gonna die anyway,” Stiles laughed hysterically, “you might as well tell me.” Chris sighed and lowered the gun slightly, so if he shot it would have hit Stiles' shoulder.

“She was my daughter,” the older man said, “but she left me, two years ago. She…she was cursed. A moon curse; and she changed into a terrible beast every night.”

“What?” Stiles’ eyes widened, “like a werewolf?”

Chris looked at him,

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, almost to himself, “you’re going to be dead soon anyway…yes, Allison was a werewolf. One night  she attacked me, almost killed me, and then ran off…that was the last time I saw her.”

“She could still be alive,” Stiles said, feeling sudden sympathy for the man in front of him. He was in a similar situation; his most loved person was missing, maybe gone forever…the uncertainty was worse than knowing. It's like you couldn't start getting over it because somewhere deep inside you there was still hope.

“Do you think your father’s still alive?” Chris snapped.

“Yes.” Stiles said determinedly, wondering if he was in denial, if he was lying. Chris laughed bitterly,

“Then you’re a fool,” he said, but the anger was gone from his face and the sadness was back. He pocketed his gun, “go.” He said, “get out of here. Don’t let Kate see you.”

“W-What?” Stiles didn't understand.

“I’m letting you go,” Chris snapped, “my daughter would be your age now, I’m doing it for her. Just go – steer clear of the wolves. Go to the woods,” Chris’ eyes hardened, “go!” he yelled, shoving at Stiles' chest. The human scrambled backwards, sudden tears prickling his eyes. He didn’t understand, he didn’t _understand_...he broke into a run though, sprinting through the ruins and out the back way, stumbling over stones and gravestones, leaving sad Chris Argent and bitter Kate Argent, and Beacon Hills all behind.

↮

Stiles didn’t know how long he ran for. Every moment he thought he heard an engine; Kate chasing him, or a bullet swirling past. He jogged, walked, sat down, then sprinted again, through the desert, kicking sand up. He was freezing but his clothes were drenched with sweat. He had no money, didn’t have a phone, nobody in the world that he could turn to. Confused and terrified, Stiles made it across the Mexican desert. The sky was lightening when he caught sight of a dense forest, dark like the rest of the world. It looked haunting in the pale moonlight, the roots and barks of the trees twisted together in an ancient dance. It reminded Stiles of the spider forest from The Hobbit. He shuddered, hoping he wouldn’t meet any giant creatures in between the trees.

Cautiously, Stiles stepped into the forest. The canopy closed up over his head, drowning out the sound of the wind. Cicadas began playing their tune, and something rustled in the underbrush, making Stiles jump. Up close the forest seemed a lot more menacing. Suddenly Stiles wished that Chris had shot him as branches seemed to reach for him.

And then he heard it; the wolf howl somewhere in the distance. _Werewolves_ ,  Stiles thought and tensed up immediately, pressing himself against a tree as if somehow that would save him. He decided he preferred the desert and turned the way he came but…the entrance was gone. All he could see was dark leaves twisted together, and the moonlight breaking through the branches. Another howl sounded dangerously close and Stiles stumbled back, turning around, trying to spot a way back. Instead he saw a  pair of glowing golden eyes in front of him and the teen let out a startled scream when a massive black wolf emerged from the trees, its mouth open, canines shining in the pale light, eyes glowing.

“Shit. Shit.” Stiles gasped, clutching at the rough bark behind him, scraping his palms. Everything grew hot, the wolf was staring at him. Stiles was dizzy, his heartbeat escalating, everything turned unclear…The wolf stepped forward, growling. But then it stopped and just watched Stiles. The boy held his breath. The air and ground seemed to vibrate around Stiles as he felt something tug at his heart. The fear that clenched around him like a fist was gone suddenly, replaced by the urge to throw himself at the wolf, burry his face in its dark fur – which was fucking stupid! The wolf could’ve broken Stiles’ neck with one snap of its powerful jaws, could have ripped him apart.

 _Maybe it’s that thing_ , Stiles thought desperately to himself, _like when you’re standing somewhere high up and your instincts tell you to jump…isn’t that because it’s the strongest thing you could do in that situation? The biggest decision…that’s it! My brain is telling me to kill myself._

As these thoughts flew through Stiles’ head at a rapid pace, the wolf neared. It’s growl quietened until it was barely a vibration. Stiles wasn’t scared anymore, his hand stretched out on its own accord. His skin looked more pale than usual in the soft moonlight, almost translucent. The wolf regarded him but didn’t bite, didn’t run off. It watched Stiles with its intelligent green eyes, and then slowly, oh-so-slowly, pressed it’s wet nose against Stiles’ hand. The human breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the tree as the wolf came and nuzzled his ribcage. Stiles petted it gently and then he started crying, tears pouring down his cheeks as he sobbed softly. He felt like he was mourning someone and he didn't know who – maybe it was his mother, maybe it was his father. Maybe it was sad Chris and bitter Kate, and maybe it was Allison or maybe he was just mourning for himself.

The wolf looked at Stiles, and its eyes seemed concerned. It nudged his hand and licked at it, until Stiles smiled through his tears. The animal's body heat warmed Stiles up, and it was tall enough to lick at boy's face. It peeled away after a minute and walked off a few steps, then turned to Stiles and waited patiently. Stiles cocked his head to the side and wiped his tears away,

“You want me to follow you?” he asked hesitantly. The wolf didn’t nod, just walked off a few more steps. Stiles hurried after it, matching its steps. He had no idea where he was going, but the wolf made Stiles feel safe for the first time since his dad disappeared. The dark forest didn’t seem as terrifying anymore. An owl glared down at Stiles and hooted, but the bird was no match for the wolf by Stiles’ side. It didn't seem real. Nothing really felt real.

Suddenly, a pair of wolves emerged from the trees, almost melting from the shadows. One was a dark chocolate brown colour with matching eyes, the smaller, female one was all pale gold, almost white. Theycircled Stiles’ black wolf, and then nipped at each other playfully. The white wolf came up to Stiles and sniffed his hand, she then stood on her hind paws and licked Stiles’ face. The boy couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that escaped him.

They began walking again. Stiles’ hand found the black wolves fur and lodged itself there permanently. The wolf didn’t seem to mind, and touching it made Stiles more relaxed. It was weird. Sometimes the blonde wolf would run off only to come back a few minutes later. The chocolate brown wolf remained at Stiles' other side, almost guarding him like the black wolf.

After about an hour, when the sky was really starting to light up, something rustled in the trees. A slimmer, more graceful she-wolf slinked out of the trees. She regarded Stiles’ with soft brown eyes and then nipped at the black wolf. They seemed to communicate with their eyes. Seconds later the newcomer run off, only to return half a few minutes later later with a darker brown male with a crooked jaw.

“Is that your pack?” Stiles asked. The wolves regarded him coolly and then they raised their heads to the sky and howled as one. The sound synchronized perfectly and it sent a shiver down Stiles’ spine. His hand tightened in the black wolves fur. He didn't understand how  these animals could resemble a family more than humans.

Two howls echoed for longer than the pack around Stiles, and from deeper in the forest. The human assumed that there were more wolves, but he didn’t pay it any mind as the wolves continued walking. He had no idea where they were going, but Stiles didn’t feel tired. His body buzzed with adrenaline and energy. He barely noticed when a pale caramel coloured wolf joined the pack, play-fighting with the brown female.

The walk continued. The stars disappeared.

Stiles didn’t see the she wolf at first. She moved with grace, like she was part of the night. Her eyes were a startling icy-green, her fur a soft strawberry-blonde, tinted ginger. She was the smallest of the bunch, but she carried herself with pride. She watched Stiles curiously.

Suddenly the black wolf nipped at Stiles’ hand, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to get his attention. The caramel wolf, the brown she-wolf and the one with the crooked jaw started trotting, gaining speed. The blonde, chocolate-brown, strawberry and black wolves stayed around Stiles.

“You want me to run?” Stiles asked the black wolf, though he didn’t expect an answer. The wolf nudged Stiles’ leg, “alright, big boy. I can run.” And Stiles took off, not sprinting, but running fast enough. The wolves howled happily and took off after him.

And that’s what they did; they ran for the most of the night. Stiles in the middle, surrounded by over half a dozen wild animals. A boy running with wolves…

When they finally stopped there was a sign in front of them. WELCOME TO BEACON HILLS.

“Y-You brought me home?” Stiles gasped. The strawberry wolf nudged the brown she-male. Suddenly the human was filled with panic – he couldn’t go home, not with Kate there, probably already spreading lies about him through the town…Stiles dropped to his knees in front of the wolves, so he could look in their eyes. They all looked at him expectantly, but he didn’t know what to say. What to ask. _Take me with you. I can be like Mowgli, part of the forest._ It sounded stupid and yet Stiles looked for a possible ally, but all of the wolves’ faces were impassive, except for the one with the crooked jaw.

Stiles gripped that wolves’ face and looked into its eyes. It seemed startled but didn't move away.

“Please don’t send me home,” he whispered, “she wants to kill me. I can’t go home. I don’t want to…please let me stay with you.” The boy rested his forehead against the wolves. The black wolf growled in warning but the crooked jaw wolf just licked Stiles’ cheek. He gave an expectant look to the other wolves. Slowly, the strawberry wolf came over and stood next to Stiles. The brown she-wolf followed, and so did the blonde and the chocolate-brown ones. The caramel one seemed reluctant to accept Stiles, but after a nip from the brown she-wolf, he came onto the side.

The black wolf huffed and groaned, turning in anxious circles. Stiles reached out and touched its side. The wolf immediately stilled, its eyes locked with Stiles’. The boy felt his breath catch, those eyes were so _human_. Hesitantly, the black wolf nuzzled Stiles’ neck. Its breath was warm against the human’s sweaty skin. The wolves behind them made happy noises, and then they were running again.

↮

The warehouse that the wolves led Stiles to was massive. It loomed over them, glinting in the silvery light. It seemed abandoned, the windows dark.

“Is this where you live?” Stiles asked, craning his neck up to see the building. The wolves ignored him and filed in, one by one. Reluctantly, Stiles followed them, wondering what wild animals lived in a building. It was surprisingly warm inside, and dark. Stiles closed the door behind him and it immediately locked into place. Why did wolves need locks on doors? Stiles had no idea…

The next thing he saw made his breath catch. The living room was joined to the kitchen, like a massive loft. A few weird, mismatched floral couches stood in the middle around a coffee table. A large dining table sat in one corner and a TV set with bean bags in the other. Shelves filled with books decorated the walls, and fairy lights snaked around the stairs which led to the half-floor. 

“I…ugh, um,” Stiles wondered who the hell lived here with seven wolves. The blonde and chocolate brown wolves sprawled themselves on the floor, nuzzling each other. The black wolf tugged on Stiles’ sleeve. The human realized how dirty he was; his clothes were decorated with flakes of mud and stray leaves and he was pretty sure he had sand in his ears. There were rips on his jeans, and his shoes trekked mud onto the carpet. “Ah, shit, sorry,” Stiles apologized and kicked his shoes off. A wave of tiredness hit the human and he swayed on his feet suddenly. His limbs felt like marshmallows, his eyelids like lead, pulling down onto his eyes. All he wanted was to curl up on the floor and…

The black wolf tugged again, more insistently.

“Coming,” Stiles grumbled, forcing his eyes to stay open. He followed the wolves up the stairs, and into the room on the end. He didn’t have time to register much. The wolf pushed a t-shirt into Stiles’ arms with his teeth, and the boy stripped down to his boxers and pulled the shirt on. Then he collapsed on the bed with a happy sigh. The covers smelled really nice; musky and a bit like dogs. Stiles loved dogs. They were silky soft and black. Stiles crawled under them, and appreciated the mattress and how comfortable it was. The black wolf watched him. Stiles scooted up for him and smiled sleepily. In the morning he'd wake up and it would all be a dream.

The wolf hoped on to the bed, turned in circles and finally settled down, close to Stiles. He began growling softly, and it lulled Stiles to sleep. Without meaning to, the human tangled his hand into the wolves’ fur again. He was asleep in seconds.

↮

Stiles woke up facing the window. Soft sunlight filtered in through the tall windows, dancing on the human’s face. The boy blinked a few times and moved his arms. His muscles hurt. The boy sat up, rubbing his eyes, which widened when he realized that the weird events of the previous night were not a dream. Kate's attempted murder, Chris Argent and his story, the church in Mexico, the forest and the wolves...it was all true.

Stiles was in a room. The walls were painted white and there was a walk in closet at the end of the room, as well as an en-suite bathroom. The only other furniture in the room was the massive king-sized bed with amazing black covers that Stiles was currently laying in. With someone apparently.

“S-Shit!” he stuttered, scrambling back and almost falling of the bed. He noted that he was wearing someone’s too big t-shirt. He remembered going to sleep with the black wolf curled up next to him, but what was sleeping next to him was definitely not a wolf…it was a human. A human man, to be precise. A human man with sleepy green eyes, messy black hair, stubble and an amazing body like a sculptured Greek God, to be _really_ precise.

“W-Who are you?” Stiles squeaked. The man looked confused,

“I’m the person who saved you last night,” he grumbled and got up from bed swiftly. His voice was low and raspy. He was wearing black boxers. _Only_ black boxers. Stiles looked away, blushing and 'totally' not appreciating the man’s back muscles.

“I-I don’t understand,” Stiles stuttered, “there were wolves…”

“There are no more wolves,” the man interrupted, “for now anyway. Give it twelve hours and you’ll see them again.”

“W-Wait.” Stiles stood up, eyes wide as everything clicked into place, “ _you’re_ the black wolf?!”

“How creative,” the Greek God grumbled. He had amazing eyebrows, and Stiles couldn’t stop from staring. “Yes I am the 'black wolf'.”

“I…um. Wow.” Stiles whispered, “that’s insane. That’s so cool. Oh my god I’m friends with a wolf!” he grinned. The man glared,

“We’re not friends.” He stated. Stiles offered him his hand,

“I’m Stiles,” he said excitedly, ignoring the man's previous statement, “Stiles Stilinski.”

“Derek Hale,” the man said, taking Stiles' hand tentatively. Derek’s hand was big and warm and calloused and it made Stiles shiver, “hey didn’t your dad go missing or something?” Derek inquired. Stiles blinked, his expression fell.

“I…well, yeah,” he said quietly, wondering how the fuck did the man know that. Derek winced,

“Shit. Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. A silence settled over the two while Stiles tried to understand what the hell was going on. Derek cleared his throat, “well, how about you come meet the rest of the pack?”

"Um...okay?"

Derek borrowed Stiles a pair of grey sweatpants and when the two were dressed (Derek in a Henley that hugged his muscles in a way that should totally be illegal), they stepped into the corridor.

A girl walked past them. Her strawberry-blonde hair was curled to perfection, her outfit perfectly matched and her red lipstick applied perfectly. She just looked all-around perfect.

“Ah, Derek,” the girl smiled. She eyed Stiles, “and you are?”

“S-Stiles,” the human said quickly, offering the girl a smile, “Um. You kind of saved me yesterday?”

“Ah, yes,” the girl nodded, “Lydia Martin. Nice to meet you. I’m the queen in this house. Don’t touch my stuff,” she smiled sweetly, and skipped off. Stiles had no idea why she was walking around the house in eight inch heels.

“Strawberry wolf?” Stiles asked Derek. The man raised an eyebrow,

“Really?” he asked. Stiles shrugged. Derek led him down the stairs into the living room-kitchen area. A couple was lounging on the couch, binge watching American Horror Story. The girl’s blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun, she was wearing a bra and black boxers. The boy next to her had dark skin and seemed massive compared to her, like a bodyguard. He had a great poker face.

“Oh my goodness!” the blonde girl gushed when she saw Stiles, getting up and running to him. She gathered him up in her arms and squeezed. Stiles was filled with a sudden warmth and he returned the embrace with an easy laugh. “You’re even cuter when you’re not slowly dying of fear!” she decided, “I’m Erica by the way. Erica Reyes,” she winked.

“Stiles,” the human offered.

“That’s Boyd,” Derek said, pointing to the boy. He gave a little, awkward wave, “Erica’s boyfriend.”

“Introduce me, Derek,” a boy with perfectly tousled curls came in. He was wearing a scarf even though it was really warm inside. Derek sighed,

“Stiles. This is Isaac.”

“Hi,” Stiles said. Isaac raised an eyebrow,

“You know what? I changed my mind, he’s cute. Let’s keep him.”

“Keep me?!” Stiles spluttered, “I’m not an animal!”

"We are," Erica offered helpfully.

“You can always go back to…wait, how did it go?” Isaac raised his eyes to the ceiling dramatically, “she’s going to kill me. I don’t wanna go home, let me stay with you?” he said innocently. Stiles glared, though it probably looked pathetic compared to Derek's glare.

“Isaac…,” Derek growled.

“Cut him some slack, Isaac,” another boy came in. He had the warmest eyes Stiles has ever seen, and a broad smile on his face. And a crooked jaw.

“You’re the wolf with the crooked jaw!” Stiles yelled. The boy looked around, and his smiled fell,

“What?” he asked, his hand covering his jaw self-consciously, “my jaw’s not crooked. At least not that much…”

“Hey, it’s okay dude,” Stiles assured him, “it looks cool.”

“Really?” the boy perked up. He really was like a puppy, “I’m Scott McCall.”

Stiles introduced himself, and then Scott bro-hugged him, patting him on the back and talking about how glad he was that Stiles was there with them. Derek went off to make breakfast and Scott and Stiles got into a debate about if Marvel or DC were better, with Erica throwing in comments once in a while. It was so weird, how easily Stiles fit in. Like really weird. It took his breath away, and he was still pretty dazed as he debated if Deadpool or Batman was better.

And then she walked in.

The girl was pretty, carrying groceries. She wore a polka dot blue sweater and had an adorable dimple in her cheek. Her hair fell around her face in messy waves.

“Oh he’s up!” she said happily. Stiles stood up.

“Hi! I’m Stiles Stilinski.”

“Nice to meet you,” the girl leaned forward and kissed Stiles’ cheek, like he was family, “My name’s Allison. Allison Argent.”

Stiles’ heart missed a beat and he sucked in a breath, getting up from the couch and stumbling away from the girl. Derek's head snapped up and he sniffed at the air.

_Allison Argent. Allison Argent. Allison Argent._

_She turned into a terrible beast every full moon._

_My daughter would be your age now, I’m doing it for her._

_Chris Argent…Chris fucking Argent._

_I’m letting you go. I’m letting you go._

_Argent. Argent. Argent._

_Kate Argent._

_I never liked you…goodbye Stiles._

_Kate Argent with blood on her hands._

_Chris Argent with blood on his hands._

_Allison Argent…_

Stiles’ didn’t realize that he was panicking until his vision grew fuzzy and unclear. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes. His knees crumbled, he couldn’t breathe. Someone caught him. Derek was there.

“Stiles, breathe with me. Stiles.”

Then the darkness took him.

↮

When Stiles woke up, he was back in Derek’s bed, with the man sitting on a chair next to it, a worried expression on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his amazing eyebrows furrowing. Stiles wanted to reach out and smooth the crease out, but he kept his hands to himself.

“I need to go,” he told Derek. His throat was sore, voice rought. Stiles sat up in bed, and his head spun.

“Hey, hey,” Derek placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. The human could feel the heat through his thin cotton shirt. He wanted to lean into Derek, for some odd reason. He wanted to know what Derek smelled like, “can you tell me what the hell is wrong with you?”

Stiles shook Derek’s hand off, tears gathering in his eyes. He buried his face in his hands like a child and took a deep breath. He didn't mean to start crying.

“Everything’s wrong with me!” he sobbed, voice muffled by his hands.

“Stiles…”

“My m-mom’s gone, and my dad h-hated me, I read it in his diary. He hated how w-weak I was, and that I kept h-having panic attacks, and that I had A-ADHD.” Stiles stifled a sob, but the barrier had opened and he couldn’t stop the words from falling from his mouth, “a-and now h-he's missing, and I-I don’t…I don’t even k-know if he’s dead, o-or locked up somewhere or h-hurt and w-waiting for me to get him…b-but I _can’t._ I-I’m so f-fucking weak. I l-let Kate fucking Argent d-drive me out to M-Mexico and I would’ve l-let her brother k-kill me. I was r-ready to die,” he looked up at Derek with red eyes, tears racing down his cheeks, “I wanted him to k-kill me. A-and he almost did. And n-now I fucking fainted b-because she's a-an Argent and-” his voice faltered. He clutched his chest and bit his lip as tears continued rolling down his cheeks. Derek just stared at him, and then hesitantly reached out and touched Stiles’ cheek. The human stopped crying instantly, and it was as if Derek's touch dried his tears. The wolf got up and left.

It was quiet in the room, Stiles couldn’t hear the other werewolves talking quietly downstairs as he tried to calm his breath. Then Allison came in, and the human almost flinched when he saw her. She sat on the chair that Derek sat on before, though she looked uncomfortable.

“I’m really sorry,” she whispered. All of Stiles' anger and fear evaporated. He realized that this wasn’t Chris Argent or Kate Argent sitting in front of him, but Allison; someone he didn’t even know yet. Someone with a kind face and warm eyes.

“No,” Stiles said shakily, getting himself together. He looked away, “I’m sorry. Your surname…it just freaked me out.”

Allison took a deep breath.

“I was bitten by a werewolf when I was fifteen.” She said.

“Derek?” Stiles asked quietly. The girl shook her head,

“No. His uncle – Peter,” she said, “he bit me and Scott. Derek bit Isaac and Erica and Boyd, but only because they wanted it. He would never force anyone to take the bite.” She gave Stiles a tight smile, “anyway, I come from a long line of hunters. It’s our code, if one gets bitten they should take their own life in honour, instead of…changing into this,” Allison gestured at herself, “when my parents found out that I was changed, they gave me a blade and sent me up to my room. In the end I couldn’t do it,” the girl was smiling but there were tears in her eyes, “I went out of the window. I knew I had to get away but it was the full moon and soon I was changed. Lydia found me, and she took me with them," she frowned, "we were chased through the woods by blood mages. They cursed us...” Allison shook her head and looked at Stiles, “they’re so good, Stiles. Our pack – we take care of each other, more than my family ever did.”

“Your dad…,” Stiles’ voice was hoarse, “your dad, he misses you.”

“I know,” Allison whispered, “but I can’t go back. Can you?”

“No.” Stiles shook his head, “thank you."

Allison nodded, “no problem,” she said, smiling.

“What about the others? What are their stories?” the boy asked.

“Derek’s a born wolf,” Allison said, “his family was murdered in a fire when he was fifteen. By my aunt, Kate,” the girl winced, and so did Stiles. _That scheming bitch._  “Derek lived with Peter for a while but they didn’t get along. Peter’s dead now; long story, and Derek has his own pack. He ‘adopted’ Peter’s betas; Lydia and Scott, first. We found Erica and Boyd in the high school,” she glanced at the door, but there was nobody in the corridor, “Erica was suffering from epilepsy, Boyd was being bullied. Isaac was found later, by Scott. He was abused by his father. He used to get locked up in this tiny box during full moons.”

“Wow. I thought I had a shitty family life,” Stiles joked. Allison smiled, “What about Lydia?”

“Well…nobody really knows where she came from. We assume she ran away from Eichen house. But she’s stable,” the girl shrugged, “Isaac found her in the woods, butt naked,” Allison giggled, “and she just kind of stayed.”

“Like a stray cat?” Stiles asked.

“Exactly like a stray cat.”

“Hey! I can hear you!” Lydia walked in, carrying a few dusty old books in her arms. “Here, I brought these for you. You should educate yourself,” the girl sniffed the air, “nearly sunset. We should get going.”

“Get going?” Stiles’ eyes widened, “get going where?!”

“It’s part of the curse,” Derek said quietly, stepping in. The two girls ducked around him and out of the room, “we change into wolves at night. Except for the full moon, we get to spend that in our human bodies.”

“O-Oh,” Stiles felt his mouth go dry. “T-That’s…um, okay. What do I do?”

“Stay here.”

“Stay here?!” Stiles scoffed, “I’m surrounded by werewolves and you want me to _stay here_?!”

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek sighed. Stiles pouted,

“Aw c’mon! Can’t I come with you?”

“No.” Derek walked out of the room and Stiles followed,

“Can’t you guys stay here?”

“No.”

“But what about Kate?”

“You’re safe here.”

“Derek…”

“We’ll be here by sunrise.”

“B-But-”

“No buts. Just go to sleep or something, read a book.”

Before Stiles could reply, Derek walked downstairs. Stiles ran after him, only to see the front door slam shut. It was starting to get dark outside.

“Sorry, babe,” Lydia gave Stiles a sympathetic look, “see you in the morning.”

“Please make breakfast!” Allison added, and the two girls bounded out, followed closely by Isaac, Scott and Boyd.

Stiles was left in the warehouse all by himself, and suddenly the place didn’t seem as cute and homey as before. It felt empty. The human hugged himself and jumped when he heard a wolf howl outside. Quickly the boy ran up to Derek’s room and opened one of the books Lydia gave him. He still didn't quite understand what happened.

For the next few hours he blared loud music out of the radio and concentrated on the words on the paper. All the lights were on, the doors closed. Stiles was terrified, his hand clammy with sweat, his heart beating fast. He was afraid that somehow Kate found him and would barge in, slitting his throat or something-

The lights suddenly went out, the music stopped and Stiles’ breath caught in his throat.

“H-Hello?!” he called, stupidly, before slamming a hand over his mouth. That's how people got killed. The human slowly got up from the bed, his legs shaking, and came up to the light switch. He flicked it a few times but nothing happened, “no power? Huh,” he said to himself, before slowly opening the door. It creaked, and beyond it was darkness. Stiles couldn’t bring himself to stay in the room. He wanted to find the fuse box and fix the problem.

He put on the flashlight on his phone, which proved kinda stupid because now everything looked as if he was walking through a real life slender man game, armed only with that stupid torch. Stiles took a deep breath and stepped out of the relative-safety of his room.

The house was silent, the light from Stiles’ phone picked out random objects; the corner of the balustrade, the turned-off fairy lights. He began to carefully descend the stairs, but they creaked with each step, the sound echoing throughout the building.

Stiles heard another howl from outside but this time it made him feel safer, knowing that _his_ werewolves were close by. Or at least he hoped they were his werewolves. With shaking hands, the boy leaned on the wall, trying to remember where the fuse box was, or even if there was one.

However, before he could find anything, he heard footsteps outside and froze. He could hear the blood rushing around in his body, and he forgot to breathe. His first instinct was to hide in the corner, so he did. He lurched across the living room and curled into a ball just as the door creaked open. Stiles couldn’t see anything anyway, having dropped his phone on his mad dash for safety, so now he just buried his face in his hands. He didn’t want Kate to be the last thing he saw before he died.

It took him a second to realize that he was having a panic attack; his vision was blurry with tears, his body was shaking, he couldn’t breathe. The boy squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that maybe he could pass out before Kate killed him. His lungs ached, his head hurt, he wanted so badly to be somewhere else, he wanted someone to protect him, he wanted Der-

Something soft and wet licked at Stiles’ exposed hands. The boy was startled into taking a gasp of air, as he moved his hands away and looked up. Derek the black wolf stood in front of him, looking as massive as the night before, with his head cocked to the side and his gorgeous green eyes filled with worry. Stiles could just make out his expression in the darkness.

“D-Derek?” He gasped, feeling hot tears slide down his face. His hands automatically reached for the wolf and Derek didn’t hesitate in stepping forward and nuzzling his nose against Stiles neck. The humans hands buried themselves in Derek’s fur, as he stared into the darkness, relief flooding him, “I-I thought you w-were Kate,” he sobbed suddenly, his adrenaline running dry. Derek licked his face, “I don’t w-want to b-be alone,” the boy whispered, “p-please don’t leave me a-alone…”

In response, Derek just curled up on the floor, resting his massive head in Stiles’ lap. The human relaxed visibly and patted Derek’s head with a shaking hand, his breathing slowing.

“Thank you,” he said. Exhaustion creeped up on him, he closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds, long before the power came back on.

↮

“Red is totally your colour,” Lydia decided, pressing the shirt against Stiles. The human fidgeted uncomfortably, “Allison! Isn’t red totally Stiles’ colour?!”

“Yes!” Allison agreed, popping out of nowhere with multiple jeans in her arms, “I got you all of these because I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“Guys-” Stiles started but then Erica appeared, carrying a nice, green coat in the crook of her arm,

“What do you think?” she asked. Stiles blinked at the three girls, attacking his with clothes,

“Guys I have no money to pay for all of this!” Stiles said eventually. Erica rolled her eyes,

“Obviously. You’re technically dead, according to the shit Argent's spreading,” she said, “but Derek’s paying, he did it for all of us. He has a lot of money in the Hale vault,” the girl wiggled her eyebrows.

“I can’t get Derek to pay for all of this!” Stiles protested.

“Yes, you can, now go try these on,” Lydia shoved the clothes into Stiles’ arms, “by the way, there’s a dinner party today, so you better look cute.”

“Dinner party?” Stiles flailed, but nobody replied, Erica just pushed him towards the changing room.

↮

Isaac and Boyd were leaning against each other, looking bored and scrolling through their newsfeeds. They were both dressed in classy black suits. Derek was leaning against the wall, looking grumpy as usual, but absolutely dashing in his own suit. Lydia was in the bathroom, fixing up her makeup, while Erica tried to make Allison’s green dress show some more cleavage. Scott was watching this out of the corner of his eye, smiling slightly.

Stiles ran down the stairs, dressed in a suit that Lydia and Erica picked out for him, which fitted nicely and actually made him look decent. The human missed the way Derek’s eyes widened when he saw him,

“Where’s Lydia?” Stiles asked.

“Bathroom,” Scott said, still looking at Allison.

“You look nice, Stiles,” Erica said, smirking slyly at Derek. The human faltered,

“Oh. Thanks,” he said, blushing slightly, “you look really nice too,” he added, before sprinting back up the stairs to locate Lydia. Derek’s eyes followed him, or more precisely, his butt, which looked better than ever in the tight trousers.

“You’re ogling Stiles,” Isaac teased.

“No, I’m not,” Derek glared at him, but his cheeks were pink, “can we just go?”

↮

It was a fancy party of one of Lydia's older friends. It was already crowded when the pack arrived and they mostly stuck together. Isaac danced with Allison, then Scott danced with her. Boyd and Erica overtook the dance floor, and Lydia danced with everyone at some point, including the girls. Derek, however, refused to move.

“Oh come onnn,” Erica whined, a bit drunk on the expensive champagne, “dance with meeee.”

“No. Go dance with Boyd,” Derek turned her around gently and sent her on her way, not that the blonde was complaining. Stiles came over, looking really happy, with flushed cheeks. Isaac, Scott, Allison and Lydia were all standing near Derek, drinking and chatting. Their eyes turned on Stiles when he appeared. The human was also quite drunk, he took Derek’s hand in his and tugged on it,

“Dance with me!” he demanded, a stupid grin on his face. Derek blinked at him and then, without a word of protest, let Stiles pull him toward the dance floor. His pack watched, open mouthed, as he wrapped his arm around the human’s waist, and spun his around. Although Stiles was drunk, somehow they managed to coordinate their movements, and were now talking quietly, Stiles grinning from ear to ear.

“I can’t believe it,” a slow grin spread over Scott’s face, “Derek’s actually _dancing.”_

“It’s like he’s a completely different person around Stiles,” Allison mused, “do you think that-”

Boyd popped out of nowhere, looking a bit more panicked than usual,

“Guys. It’s getting late, we should go.”

“Alright,” Lydia picked up her handbag. Erica dragged Stiles and Derek over before the whole pack left the party. The sun was setting behind the tree line outside and everyone ran for the car. Isaac took off his shirt and tossed it in the bag. This was followed by half a dozen shoes, coats and two handbags.

“What the-” Stiles started, but then he forgot words because Derek took off his shirt and _fuck…_

“Stiles, just drive home, you know the way, right?” Lydia asked worriedly.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Stiles gave her a smile and she kissed his cheek,

“Okay, see you in the morning, babe,” she said, before joining the rest of the pack in the woods.

Derek looked at Stiles,

“I’ll be okay,” Stiles assured, trying desperately not to look anywhere below Derek's chin.

“Last night you were scared,” was all Derek said. Stiles shrugged, flushing with embarrassment.

“I’ll be alright. The power cut freaked me out a bit,” he said, and smiled, “don’t think I’m such a weakling, I can take care of myself.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that."

“Go,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “I’ll be okay.”

Hesitantly, Derek began walking toward the trees, and kept glancing over at Stiles. The human waved and got into the car.

↮

Stiles stepped out outside warehouse. All the lights were off which made him feel a bit uneasy. He started walking toward the door, when he saw the dark shape dash out of the forest.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, seeing the wolf walk towards him, “you don’t have to check up on me.”

Derek just looked at him, and refused to move from Stiles’ side. Not that the human was complaining. He opened the door and then went upstairs, with Derek following closely behind.

“Go run in the woods or whatever you do,” Stiles said, disappearing into the bathroom. He took a shower and pulled on some of his newly bought pyjamas, which consisted of a grey t-shirt and cheese patterned pants, he brushed his teeth and came out. Derek was sitting by the door like a guard dog. Stiles sighed and got into his (technically Derek’s) bed.

“I’m okay now, Der. Seriously,” he assured, flicking the lights off. The only light left was the lamp in the corner, giving the room a dim glow. Stiles heard a howl outside, and he decided that it was one of the girls.

Derek waited for a moment, watching Stiles. The human was laying on his side, looking at Derek with sleepy eyes. After a while, Derek got up but instead of going back out, he jumped up onto his bed. Stiles sighed when he curled up in the foot of the bed, but didn’t say anything.

↮

_Three weeks later_

Everyone fell into a comfortable routine. Scott, Allison and Lydia made an effort to finish their education and went to the next town to attend school. Stiles stayed in the house, reading books or playing games with Boyd or Erica. They would all eat meals together (usually cooked by Stiles) like a real family, and have movie nights every Friday. At night the wolves would run into the forest, with at least one of them, usually Derek, staying with the human. Stiles loved it. For the first time since losing his dad, he was actually happy, with an actual family.

One of his favourite memories was when there was a storm outside about two weeks after he got accepted into the pack, and the wolves refused to go outside. Instead they all climbed onto the couch where Stiles was, and arranged themselves comfortably before falling asleep in the puppy pile. In the morning, Stiles woke up curled into Derek’s side with Lydia practically on top of him. It made him feel like he was really part of their pack.  

A thing he hated was training with Derek. Well, he did love some parts; the fact that Derek was nearly always shirtless (hot damn), and that it meant that Stiles was technically allowed to put his hands on him, but that was about it.

↮

Stiles ended up on the ground again, groaning at the impact, and a chuckle came from Erica, Boyd and Isaac, who were seating close by, watching in amusement.

“Shit.” Stiles grumbled, standing up shakily, “that hurt.”

“You need to know how to protect yourself,” Derek’s voice was steely, “I told you – try and anticipate my move.”

“Easy to say, you’re the one with the super senses,” Stiles dusted wet leaved off of his tank top, “I’m just a fragile human. I don’t even have any muscle.”

Derek sighed,

“Here, hit me.” He said, tensing up.

“Seriously?” Stiles blinked, and the man nodded. Stiles bit his lip, “I don’t want to,” he admitted.

“See! That’s the problem with  you! You have to _want_ to hurt me.” He said, “but you won’t actually hurt me, because I’m a wolf. Kate’s human, and you need self defence against her.”

“Self-defence won’t help me against bullets,” Stiles grumbled. Derek sighed again,

“Erica, come here,” he ordered. The blonde sauntered over, smirking, “Stiles. Hit Erica.”

“I am _not_ hitting Erica!” Stiles protested.

“He is _not_ hitting Erica,” Boyd growled, eyes flashing yellow. Derek turned to growl at him, and his own eyes flashed blue,

“He won’t hurt her. It’s just practice.”

“Come on Stiles,” Erica grinned, “hit me.”

“No.”

“Stiles…”

“I’m not hitting you!” Stiles said, “I’m not hitting any of you!”

“How are you planning to learn then?” Isaac said. Using his wolf speed, he ran toward Stiles and his fist connected with Stiles', sending him sprawling again. Stiles groaned at the impact as his back hit the rocks. It fucking hurt. “See?” Isaac asked with a satisfied smirk, and then Derek had him up against the tree, his face morphed into something vaguely wolf like,

“Don’t ever touch him again,” he growled, low in his throat. The pack all froze and stared at Derek. Isaac swallowed and nodded, looking terrified. The Alpha dropped him and turned toward the rest of his pack. Erica was hiding her smile, and Stiles was staring at him open mouthed, “end of session,” Derek said, and disappeared into the woods.

***

It was the middle of the night, and Stiles knew he wasn’t allowed to leave, but he was bored and more hyped up than usual. His Adderall finished and nobody’s gone out to get him more yet, so he was too buzzed to stay in the warehouse. And anyway, Lydia was looking over him, and she was always a bit more chilled than the other wolves.

So the two of them left, Stiles dressed in one of Derek’s too-big hoodies, to mask his own smell, with one of his hands buried in Lydia’s strawberry blonde fur. They strolled out into the woods, the moon shining down on them, and Stiles felt completely safe.

“Let’s go to a clearing,” The human offered. Lydia glanced at him and changed her direction. Stiles followed her, talking about the books he read, even though Lydia couldn’t reply. After several moments of moonlight serenity interrupted only by Stiles' chattering, the two made it to the clearing. A water cascaded down a small cliff, glowing silver in the moonlight  and smashing down into a river that weaved itself down to Beacon Hills.

“It sure is beautiful,” Stiles said, marvelling at the water, a bit breathless. A small, cool breeze picked up, ruffling his hair. Lydia trotted over and started lapping at the river, while Stiles watched. Something rustled in the trees and the wolf's head snapped up. “Calm down,” Stiles put his hand on her head, “it’s alright. It’s just the forest sounds, you know…”

But Lydia sniffed the air and then gave Stiles a ‘stay here’ look before disappearing between the trees, fast as an arrow.

“Great,” Stiles sighed, and waited. It was considerably more scary without a wolf to protect him, but it wasn’t anything that Stiles couldn’t handle. The trees looked uninviting, dark and menacing so the human opted to stay near the waterfall, which could be used as a weapon...maybe. Something rustled in the trees again and Stiles' heart beat picked up. The boy stepped a bit closer, the curiosity getting the better of him, even though his brain screamed at him to turn around, “Hello?” he called shakily.

A boy stumbled out of the woods. He was around Stiles’ height with a beautiful face, cold eyes and no shirt, giving the other boy a great view of his abs. Stiles felt his face heat up and his eyes quickly snapped up to the guys face, 

“Er...hi?" Stiles offered, suddenly scared that it might be someone from Beacon Hills, looking for him.

“Jackson Whittemore,” the boy said. He eyed Stiles up and down, and then smirked slowly, “I was on my way from a party in Beacon Hills when my car broke down. You know which party, the one thrown by the twins?”

“Erm, no, not really, I’m not from around here,” Stiles said carefully. He was feeling increasingly more uncomfortable and he just kind of wanted to disappear back into the forest, which didn't look as scary anymore.

“Oh,” Jackson cocked his head to the side, clearly not ready to leave yet, “and where _are_ you from?”

“Mexico,” Stiles blurted, unable to think of anything else to say.

“You don’t look Mexican,” Jackson said, but before Stiles could reply, he continued, “what’s your name?”

“St…Genim,” Stiles said, “my name’s Genim Hale.”

“Hale?” Jackson cocked his eyebrow, an amused smirk playing on his lips, “I thought the Hales were all dead," he drawled.

“Different family,” Stiles said quickly. Jackson shrugged, losing interest,

“Cool. Anyway, you should give me your number,” he said, “so that I can hook you up for the next party. I get invited everywhere, you know how it is.”

“Sure,” Stiles said sceptically, but he didn't make a move to give the stranger anything.

“You’re cute,” Jackson said in reply, which really threw Stiles off. Because no one ever called him anything apart from ‘spaz’ and ‘annoying.’ And no one ever, _ever_ called him cute. Stiles blushed and Jackson laughed,

"Really?" the boy asked, all shy and flushed all of a sudden. Jackson laughed,

“Yeah. But seriously, give me your number.”

“I-I don’t have a phone,” Stiles stuttered.

“Oh, that’s a damn shame,” Jackson said, but he wasn’t about to give up, “why don’t you come to the party with me?”

“Um, I don’t think my…family will let me,” Stiles said, looking away. Thank God he was good at lying,

“Where are you staying?” Jackson interrogated, stepping closer to Stiles. The human backed away until he felt the rough rock behind him. He was up against the cliff wall, and his heart was beating faster. Jackson kept approaching until he was a few centimetres away from Stiles.

“Never heard of personal space, have you?” Stiles laughed uneasily, and scolded himself when his voice came out slightly breathless.

“Ohhh, someone’s sassy today,” Jackson grinned,  and placed one hand on Stiles’ hip, “I like it.”

“Um,” Stiles pushed Jackson's hand away from his body, “sorry but you’re not my type.”

“Oh really?” Jackson licked his lips, eyes boring holes into Stiles', “I’m everyone’s type.” He shoved a piece of paper into Stiles’ pocket, “you must have a home phone.”

“Can you move?” Stiles asked, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

“Playing hard to get?” Jackson leaned forward a bit, obviously thinking it was funny. Stiles looked away and shifted, trying to put some more space between him and the other boy. Jackson laughed again and then suddenly he was gripping Stiles' chin in his hand, forcing the boy to look at him.

With a start Stiles realized that Jackson was drunk. Of course.

"Let go," the boy growled, getting some of his sense back. Jackson grinned and leaned in so Stiles could feel his warm breath on his lips,

"Make me," he whispered. Stiles punched him, hard. Jackson reeled back, gasping and clutching his jaw, and Stiles' face contorted in pain as he rubbed his throbbing hand. Jackson had some strong bones.

"What the fuck man?!" Jackson spluttered, and before Stiles could reply, he disappeared back the way he came, cursing. Stiles' shoulders slumped slightly and he sighed, and then Lydia shimmered out from behind the trees, looking pleased. She licked Stiles' hand, making him immediately feel better, and he scratched behind her ear. He was drained all of a sudden, his heart still thumping wildly in his chest.

"Let's go home," Stiles said and looked up. Derek stood near the trees and glared at Stiles. For some stupid reason, the human's heartbeat only accelerated more. Derek padded over and he and Lydia exchanged looks. Lydia yowled and Derek growled at her. Stiles watched the exchanged with wide eyes. Eventually Lydia bent under Derek's Alpha gaze and trotted off into the trees, "What did you do that for?" Stiles scowled at Derek.

The wolf bit at his hand – gently enough, but it felt like a warning. Stiles huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, trekking home. Derek followed closely behind.

"If this is about Jackson," Stiles said when they were shielded by the trees again, "then you don't have to worry. I'm sure he's gone."

Derek growled.

"Stop that," Stiles snapped, "Your little wolf tricks don't work on me, Sour Wolf."

Derek sulked all the way back to the warehouse. Stiles didn't speak to him as they entered the dark inside and climbed upstairs. Stiles took a quick shower, trying not to think about the weird events of the evening. Stiles was never popular in school, nobody ever hit on him...Jackson might've been drunk, but it still felt nice, to be noticed.

***

Stiles and Allison were fighting outside the warehouse, in the little clearing. The girl dodged Stiles' fist and kicked his legs from under him. Stiles landed on his back with an 'oof.'

"Sorry," Allison offered an adorable, apologetic smile and hauled Stiles back to his feet, "I forget my own strength."

Stiles smiled at her,

"It's okay. This is the only way I'll learn," they were still holding hands when Stiles swiped his leg and Allison ended up where he was seconds ago. The girl was grinning,

"Good!" she said, happily jumping to her feet, "You're getting better!"

Before Stiles could reply, Erica bounded into the clearing, her blonde hair flying in all directions.

"Ali, we have an emergency," she said, "someone at the border – another Chimera."

"Oh God," Allison muttered, "Stiles, go home. We'll meet you there for dinner – okay?" Before Stiles could reply, the two girls were sprinting, leaving him in the dust. Stiles sighed and picked up his hoodie, shrugging it on. Even when they weren't wolves, Stiles still couldn't keep up with his pack. It irritated him to no end.

He walked back home, aware of the crushing silence around him. Sure, there were the birds flittering through the trees and the occasional gust of wind, but mostly everything was quiet. It made Stiles feel unbearably lonely.

However, when the boy emerged from the trees, he was greeted by a man standing by the house, looking lost. His head snapped up when he heard Stiles approach and the human sucked in a breath when he saw the man's milky white eyes.

"Excuse me," the man's voice sounded like velvet, and it made Stiles shudder, "I appear to be lost."

"I'm not from around here?" Stiles offered nervously.

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind walking me to the closest road?" the man asked, "I am blind, unfortunately." Even as he said it, his eyes were trained directly on Stiles, looking into his eyes. It was incredibly unnerving. Stiles swallowed,

"Sorry, but I have to help my mom at home," the human managed, "The road is just to your left...if you continue walking."

The man cocked his head to the side and smiled slowly, "I thought you weren't from around here?"

Stiles realized his mistake too late. With a heavy heart he backed away, swallowing hard.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Deucalion," the man said, "and your name is Stiles Stilinski, correct?"

"It's more of a nickname, really," Stiles said, but he could barely hear himself over the blood rushing to his brain, "I bet you wouldn't be able to pronounce my real name."

Deucalion didn't take the bait and he stepped towards Stiles. His nails elongated into claws and Stiles flinched, biting his lip to not let out a scream. His pack was gone and some madman, blind werewolf was coming for him. Stiles' breathing sped up, he didn't know what to do. He was going to die...it was stupid. Everything was fucking stupid.

"I have been sent by Kate Argent," Deucalion said, "to kill you. Don't take it personally Stiles."

"Fuck you," Stiles spat and ducked just as Deucalion slashed at him with the claws. Stiles sprinted into the house and slammed the door closed behind him. He heard it lock but didn't let himself slow down as he practically flew up the stairs, barricading himself in Derek's bedroom. He realized his mistake too late – there was no way out now. Using all of his body strength, Stiles moved the wardrobe so it was pressed against the door and then looked for a second exit – there was nothing, just the bathroom.

Stiles was panicking but at least he wasn't crying. He could hear Deucalion throwing himself at the iron door below and the boy knew it wouldn't hold long.

 _Derek, Lydia, anyone,_ Stiles thought feverishly, _please come back, please, please, please..._

Stiles heard the front door crumple inside and he winced. Deucalion's footsteps echoed up the stairs and then there was a knock on the door.

"Open up, Stiles," Deucalion said.

"How about no?" Stiles asked, picking up a hardback copy of A Clash of Kings, because there was no other weapon around. Deucalion slashed through Derek's door as if it was butter and when the wardrobe began turning into a pile of splinters, Stiles' nerves failed him. He threw the book at the door, getting Deucalion in the hand, and threw himself into the bathroom, pressing himself against the door.

His heart was beating loudly and he knew he was a panic attack. This was it. Stiles moved from the door and slid down one of the walls. He buried his face in his hands. His first instinct was to pray, but he decided that thinking about God was not something he wanted to be doing as he died, so instead he imagined the pack.

Allison smiling, a dimple in her cheek, her glove pulled over her hand as she aimed an arrow up into the trees. Boyd's reassuring voice and his whoop of joy when Derek let him drive his motorbike. Lydia and her sarcastic little smiles, sitting next to Stiles for hours, reading books. Erica, constantly stealing his shirts and trying to drag him out for early morning jogs. Isaac making Stiles pancakes, and wrapping one of his scarves around the boy's neck. Scott watching old re-runs of friends with him and letting Stiles 'steal' his comic book collection.

Derek and his rare, soft smiles, his sarcastic remarks and gentle hands. His gorgeous green eyes and amazing hugs, his voice and touch, the way he frowned, the way he protected Stiles.

He couldn't protect him anymore.

Stiles couldn't hear anything but his own heartbeat as he drew his knees to his chest and buried his face in them.

"Derek." He whimpered.

Suddenly there were hands on his face and Derek's face swam into his vision. Stiles thought that Deucalion got to him and he died, and went to heaven. But then he noticed the blood soaked through Derek's shirt.

"Stiles," the wolf spoke, hands gripping Stiles' face insistently. There was so much worry in the man's eyes that it made Stiles wince, "Stiles, are you okay? Talk to me."

Stiles wanted to cry. He felt as if a heavy boulder fell off his shoulders and he didn't realize how terrified he was until he wasn't. His hands shakily came to rest over Derek's and the boy desperately tried to get words out, to tell the wolf that he was okay, but in the end the only thing that came out was,

" _Derek_."

The wolf enveloped Stiles' in a warm, strong hug and the human shivered, melting against Derek, adrenaline oozing out of his body. He choked on a sob as Derek cradled him close,

"I thought you were dead. I thought I was too late," Derek murmured helplessly. Stiles' hands tangled into the back of his shirt and he pressed his face into the wolf's shoulder. He could hear the other wolves out in the corridor.

"Is he dead?" Stiles whispered eventually.

"Yes." Derek murmured. It didn't make Stiles feel relieved – just more scared. He pulled away from the wolf and looked at him with wide eyes,

"She's never going to stop," Stiles whispered, "she'll send another person..."

"I'll kill her," Derek said stubbornly. Stiles sniffled. His shirt was blood stained from being pressed so close to Derek. The wolf moved away awkwardly, "Pack your stuff. It's not safe here," was all he said.

There was a blood stain on the carpet, halfway to the bathroom door. Stiles has been half of a room away from death.

***

Stiles didn't know what happened next – he was pretty shaken up. Scott and Lydia held his hands as they loaded into a truck and drove to a small cabin deep in the woods. It was wooden but warm, and had just one room and a bathroom. There was a _massive_ bed along one of the walls, and the next thing the human knew was that he was wearing one of Derek's t-shirts and was snuggled between Allison and Lydia, staring at the dark ceiling. He sleepily asked why they all weren't wolves and Isaac informed him it was the full moon.

Stiles' first time when his friends were all human and it was like this.

It all felt like a dream, or as if he was drunk. Stiles couldn't tell if it was real or not when he felt Derek's hand reach over Lydia and hold his tightly.

***

Stiles slipped out of the cabin, his bag slung over his shoulder. It was freezing outside and the sky was grey as the sun slowly rose. The human yearned for the warmth of the cabin, but he knew he couldn't stay with the pack. They could die because of him and he just couldn't risk that.

He left them a note and then disappeared like morning mist. He weaved his way through trees, and cried, and when he finally stopped, the sun was just appearing. Stiles found a road and stood on the side, waiting for a car.

A truck approached him and Stiles stuck his thumb out. The vehicle stopped and a bald man with kind eyes stepped out,

"Need a ride?" he asked. Stiles nodded and threw his backpack into the back before climbing into the passenger's seat. The car started. Stiles prayed the man wasn't a psychopath.

"My name is Alan," the man said, kindly, "Alan Deaton."

"Stiles," the human said quietly, not bothering to lie, "Stiles Stilinski."

Deaton raised an eyebrow, "That's interesting. I could have sworn a certain Argent proclaimed you dead."

"In her dreams," Stiles snorted humourlessly. Deaton glanced over at him,

"You smell like wolves," he said calmly, and Stiles jolted, "as far as I'm concerned only one other pack is in town, and that's Derek Hale's pack. Any chance you met them."

"Y-Yes," Stiles said shakily, "there's another pack?"

Deaton nodded, "They came in from Mexico, battered and bruised about two weeks ago. They're staying in my vet shop. You could stay as well, for some time, if you need to."

"I-I...," Stiles didn't know what to say, "Why would you do that for me?" He didn't know if Deaton was lying. The man's smile fell slightly as they drove onto a more crowded road, leaving the woods behind,

"I could say that I was friends with Talia Hale and your father," he said, "but the truth is – I just like helping people. And Stiles, you look like you'd need some help."

Stiles burst out crying when they passed the 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' sign.

***

Stiles scanned the room. It was on the second floor of Deaton's clinic, and it looked a bit like a dorm. There were several people present,

"Stiles," Deaton said, "This is Malia. A Were-Coyote," he gestured at a girl with short, dark blonde hair, who was glaring at Stiles, "Kira, a kitsune," the Japanese girl smiled a friendly smile and gave Stiles a little wave, "Liam, a Beta werewolf," a short boy with big blue eyes smirked up at Stiles from where he was sitting on his bed, "Guys, this is Stiles – he's human."

"Human?" Malia blinked, "then why is he here?"

"It's a long story, and not mine to tell," Deaton said, retreating, "Play nice."

The second he disappeared, Kira was by Stiles,

"Hi," she said, "I'm Kira."

"Stiles," Stiles said awkwardly, because he already knew that, "I...uh, how come you're here?"

"I'm being hunted," Kira shrugged like it was no big deal, "Skinwalkers."

"Skin who?" Stiles blinked. Malia shoved her way to him. She was an inch taller,

"I'm being hunted by the desert wolf," she said. She was very passive aggressive. Stiles didn't know what to say when the girl took a long sniff at him, and frowned, "You've been marked."

Liam perked up, "By who?" he asked. Malia tried to sniff again but Stiles stepped back, uncomfortable,

"Hey, give him some space," Kira scolded, "he's probably been through a lot."

"How could he be marked if he's human?" Liam continued questioning as if he hadn't heard the girl.

"Happens sometimes," Malia said, "when the connection is really strong."

"What do you mean 'marked'?" Stiles asked, confused.

"It happens when a werewolf is looking for a mate," Kira said, "like an imprint. Usually happens between an Alpha and an Omega, but it looks like a wolf has taken a liking to you."

***

Derek punched the wall, hard, leaving an indentation in it. Erica sighed and Boyd put a reassuring hand on the Alpha's shoulder,

"We'll find him," he said quietly.

"I don't understand," Derek growled, "why would he leave?!"

"What I don't understand," Lydia walked in, "is how he did it without any of us noticing, and how we _still_ didn't find him."

"The perks of living with wolves," Isaac said, "it's like he became one of us. Doesn't make him any smarter though."

"We need to find him," Derek said, looking over his pack, "It's been three days. If he's hurt...," he faltered.

"Don't worry," Lydia said, "none of us are going to give up on him. He's pack now, no matter what. And a pack sticks together."

"We should wait until the night again," Allison offered, "we're stronger then."

"I can't _wait_ anymore _,"_ Derek said helplessly. He felt like his heart was going to break.

"By all means," Isaac rolled his eyes, "run out into the forest and look for Stiles, but he's miles away by now. In these forms we will never find him, so just be patient and stop thinking with your dick."

"Isaac," Derek's eyes flashed red and he made a step forward. Scott stopped him,

"He's right," he said, "all we can do it wait."

***

Stiles was sleeping. He did that a lot the past three days, because he couldn't face actually deciding what to do next. And sleep brought beautiful dreams of green eyes that soothed him and made everything a little easier to bear.

When Stiles woke up on Friday, it was dark out and everyone was bustling around the room in states of half-undress.

"What's going on?" Stiles sat up and rubbed his eye.

"We're going to a party," Malia informed him, applying eyeliner onto her eyelids, which were dusted with gold eyeshadow, "You coming?"

"No, thanks," Stiles mumbled. Kira popped out of nowhere and grabbed his hands, pulling him out of bed,

"No way," she said cheerfully, "You've been hibernating for three days. Now you're coming with us!" she declared, "Liam will borrow you a shirt or something, but today we are celebrating!"

"What are we celebrating?" Stiles asked, defeated,

"The fact we're all still alive. We do it every week," Liam came over and pushed a shirt into Stiles' hands, "get dressed, superman."

***

The sun was setting when the pack stepped into the vet shop. The man behind the counter narrowed his eyes at them,

"Sorry, we're closed," he said, trying to remain neutral. Derek sniffed at the air and growled,

"Stiles was here," he huffed. Boyd shifted and everyone took up a defensive stance. Lydia made a sour face,

"Mountain ash," she gestured at a thin line just in front of the counter. Derek glared at the man,

"You can never be too careful," the vet smiled, "My name is Alan Deaton. You're Derek Hale are you not?"

"Where's Stiles?" Derek asked, taking a step forward.

"Relax. No need to be so aggressive," Deaton said, "I picked Stiles up off the road and brought him here. I run a kind of...," he looked for the right word, "safe house for supernatural creatures."

"Stiles is human!" Scott protested. Deaton shrugged,

"He run with wolves. He smelled like wolves. He was being hunted," he said, "I simply helped him."

"Where is he?" Derek's stance shifted and his eyes grew pleading, "I need to see him."

"I'm afraid you missed him, my friend," Deaton sighed, "He went out with the others. A party."

"We have to go get him!" Derek turned on his heel but Boyd grabbed his arm,

"Relax," he said in a low voice, "there's maybe half an hour until sunset. Seven wolves bursting into a club will not help get Stiles back."

Erica nodded, "Exactly. Let him have his fun and we'll get him in the morning."

"But...," Derek protested, "but he could be hurt!"

"I wouldn't be worried about that," Deaton said, and broke the line of ash with his foot, "the last time I saw him he was perfectly fine. And he is guarded by several supernaturals, including werewolves, a kitsune and Were-Coyote."

***

The club was hot and sweaty. Stiles down several shots of _something_ and now he was mingling with the dancing crowd. Everything was a bit hazy and Stiles didn't even notice when there were hands on his waist and a body pressed against his.

"Hey there, hot stuff."

"Jackson!" Stiles gasped. The boy grinned at him, eyes twinkling. He pushed Stiles into a pavilion, shielding him from the violent crowd, "What are you doing here?!"

"I live here," Jackson rolled his eyes, "I thought you weren't from here."

"I...um...," Stiles tried to think but his tongue turned to lead in his mouth and his thoughts muddled together. Jackson smiled and leaned a bit closer. He smelled nice.

"You look cute," he said. Stiles laughed and Jackson grinned, pressing his face into the shorter boy's neck. Stiles didn't really mind...he was intoxicated and Jackson was nice and firm against him.

"Thanks," Stiles mumbled as he felt the boy's lips trail up his neck. The music thudded, sending vibrations through the floor. It was dark and the flashing lights were hurting Stiles' eyes. He grabbed Jackson's hand and tugged on it, "Let's go outside," he slurred.

Jackson raised an amused eyebrow but didn't protest, pulling Stiles through the crowd. The human vaguely thought about Kira and Malia and Liam, but the thought was gone quickly enough when he was hit by a wave of fresh, cool night air. Stiles sighed in relief when the heat trickled out of his body, and he sobered up slightly. Jackson was holding his hand.

Before Stiles could put two and two together, the other boy had him up against the wall and was kissing him passionately. Stiles didn't know why but for some stupid reason he liked it – so he wrapped his arms around Jackson's neck and pulled him in closer. His eyes fluttered shut and then it was just the feel of lips on his, demanding access.

Stiles found himself wishing for green eyes and rough hands and-

"Oi! Jackson!" someone yelled. Jackson pulled away with a frown, and shoved a piece of paper into Stiles' hand,

"Call me," he winked and then bounded off to join a group of friends disappearing around the corner. Stiles smiled, dazed, and leaned against the wall.  A slow clap jerked Stiles out of his thoughts and a girl with black curls in a leather jacket came around the corner. There was a sword strapped to her back and several knives and guns at her waist.

"Quite the show," she smiled, "thank you for that."

"Who are you?" Stiles' muddled brain tried to catch on to what was happening.

"The name's Braeden," the girl offered.

"I'm Sti-"

"Let's skip the pleasantries," the girl waved him off and reached for a gun. Stiles only realised that she was pointing it at him when the safety clicked off. The human stumbled back, "Look, it's nothing personal. But a girl's gotta eat and Kate Argent is paying loads for your head."

"Please don't," Stiles mumbled. Braeden shrugged,

"It's me or you kid," she said apologetically.

The gun was knocked out of her hand and the girl hissed, stumbling back. Malia was suddenly at Stiles' side, her eyes glowing blue, sharp teeth lined in her mouth. Liam, and Kira came out of the shadows. The boy was wolfed out and Kira had her katana drawn.

"Get away from him," the girl said, glaring. Braeden glanced around the group with cold eyes and then gave Stiles a look.

"You ain't worth dying over," she said and picked her gun up, shoving it behind her belt, "maybe next time. But take my advice," she started to back away, "get as far away from here as you can – Kate Argent won't wait forever." And then she was off, running into the darkness.

The supernatural's shifted back to human and Malia placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder,

"Are you okay?" Kira ran over.

"That was stupid! Why did you go off by yourself?!" Malia demanded.

"I-I...," Stiles didn't get to finish. Suddenly creatures melted out of the shadows – tall creatures dressed in black cloaks with horrible silvery masks on their faces and glowing yellow eyes.

"Fuck," Liam stumbled back as one appeared right next to him. Stiles' heart started beating fast as the group moved closer to him. They tried to make a ring around him but Stiles shouldered their way through them to stand at the front, heart in his throat.

"What are those things?!" Malia demanded.

"Oni demons," Kira's sword was in front of her, "my mother used to tell me about them. They are controlled by the dark Kitsune, a Nogitsune."

"Thanks for the mythology lesson," Stiles chocked out, "what do they want?!"

"They're here for the Nogitsune," Kira swallowed.

"Not exactly." Stiles froze when he heard the voice. Kate Argent stepped out from behind the line of warriors, followed behind by... _something._

The thing was vaguely humanoid, wrapped up in bandages like a mummy, with a rotten hole where the mouth was supposed to be. Kate stood next to it, tall and proud, while it breathed loudly,

"Hello Stiles," she said.

"Bitch," Stiles breathed. Kate raised an unimpressed eyebrow,

"I sent Deucalion. Then I sent Braeden," she sighed dramatically, "but it looks like the job won't be done until I finish it myself."

"Seriously?!" Kira blurted, "You're going to such lengths to kill Stiles...you're working with a Nogitsune!" she gestured at the mummy. Kate cocked her head to the side,

"That's right, little girl," she smiled, "I'm working with the Nogitsune _and_ the Oni demons," as if by command, all the demon warriors drew their silvery blades, "so how about all of you step aside and let me get my prize – don't worry, I won't kill Stiles. That isn't my goal anymore."

"Go," Stiles breathed, "I won't have you guys die for me."

"No way!" Malia snorted, "this woman pissed me off! Let's go kill her!" her teeth elongated again. Liam snarled. Stiles' heart was beating fast, everything was confusing. Kira shoved a knife into his hand and then they were charging.

Kira's sword sparked as it slammed against one of the Oni's katana's. Stiles was breathing hard. Liam floored another demon and then there was on in front of the human. Automatically, the boy slashed his hand forward, and sliced through the demon mask. The Oni broke in half like paper and turned to dust in front of him.

The human didn't have time to be relived because then there were two more demons charging at him. Stiles picked up the fallen Oni's katana and began fighting. It smelled like blood and metal, tasted like gunpowder. It grew unbearably hot, someone screamed. Stiles felt like he was dancing, skipping away from the deadly blades of the Oni's only to slash one to pieces. It didn't make a difference – only more kept coming.

"This is taking too long," Kate growled, and then dark wrapped around Stiles.

***

Derek slumped against the wall, feeling like he was going to cry. He cursed Deaton and Stiles and his pack, he cursed the world and Kate Argent and himself.

There was blood on the ground, but nobody was dead. Kira had her arm in a cast and all the other creatures were fine. Except for Stiles – Stiles was gone.

"Damn it!" Isaac kicked a tree. Deaton sighed,

"I didn't know it was going to happen."

Derek wanted to strangle him. He wanted to strangle himself for getting attached to a frail human. Now Kate had him, and Derek would probably never see him again.

Lydia came up to him and touched Derek's cheeks,

"You're not giving up," she said firmly.

"Lydia this is pointless," Derek whispered, wanting to curl up in a ball and cry, "I'm never getting him back."

Lydia grasped his face in her hands, and glared, "Derek Hale, you're the strongest person I know and you're finally in love. I'm not letting you lose Stiles, okay? N-Not when it could fix everything," her voice cracked. Derek pulled her into a hug and sighed. He knew he was in love with Stiles, somehow he'd always known. And when he finally accepted it, it didn't feel any different. It's as if the human weaselled his way into Derek's heart and lived there for a long, long time.

"You're right," Derek said, "We're not gonna stop looking."

Kira stepped up, quietly, "I think I know where he could be. But...we can't go there with you."

Derek grasped her forearms with his hands, a new fire in his eyes,

"Tell me!"

Kira bit her lip, "Have you ever heard of Eichen house?"

Lydia sucked in a startled breath.

***

It was dark. And cold. And quiet.

Stiles hated the quiet and the only noise was the steady _drip drip_ of water. The boy was curled up against one wall, shivering, and yet he knew there was someone else in there with him. Not a human.

"W-What do you want?" Stiles whispered, teeth clattering. He thought the creature wouldn't answer, but then the heavy breathing started. Stiles curled up on himself even more, "Where's my dad? Where's Kate?" he asked.

"Kate has business. She said goodbye."

"Who are y-you?" Stiles' voice shook.

"Riddle me this, Stiles," the voice was low and raspy and Stiles knew it belonged to the Nogitsune, "What is bigger the more you take away?"

"Where's my _dad_?" Stiles felt like crying, that's how helpless he was. There was a dead thing in the shadows.

"Answer my riddle and perhaps I'll tell you."

Stiles sniffled but he knew the answer to that one – Coach had told it to him once,

"A hole," Stiles mumbled. The Nogistune laughed a raspy laugh.

"Good," he said, "you'll be a good host."

"What host?" Stiles' voice cracked, "Where's my father?!"

"Oh, he's here," the monster said, " a few floors below us, chained to the wall."

Stiles felt sick but hope sparked up in him – his father was alive.

"That helplessness you feel," the Nogitsune mused, "it could all go away. If you accept me into your body I could make you a powerful being."

"Save it," Stiles snapped, "I've seen enough movies. Trusting the bad guy never ends well."

"Who said I'm the bad guy?" The Nogitsune chucked. A shaft of moonlight flitted into the room and suddenly Stiles could see again. Opposite him sat a man in a soldier's uniform, with short brown hair. He had a nice smile.

"You're the Nogitsune," Stiles mumbled, tired of trying to figure out what was real and what wasn't. He was exhausted, he didn't know how long he had been in the dark, damp room, with just his chaotic thoughts to keep him company.

"I'm Rhys," the man smiled as if he knew the answers to all the questions in the world, "I've been here a long time."

"Good for you," Stiles closed his eyes, wanting the darkness back. There was a beat of silence.

"What gets wetter the more it dries?" Rhys asked, as if he was talking with an old friend. Stiles groaned and opened his eyes,

"What's with you and those damn riddles?" he snapped.

Rhys shrugged innocently, "I'm bored. Like I said – I've been here a long time." His eyes were twinkling.

"If I answer your stupid riddle will you help me get out?" Stiles asked. Rhys shrugged,

"We could have that deal, yes."

"Fine," Stiles huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He bit his lip.

_What's wetter the more it dries..._

Stiles wrecked his brain for an answer. Years of going through random Wikipedia pages and now he couldn't find the answer he needed! Stiles groaned.

"Give up?" Rhys smirked.

"Shut up," Stiles bit back. 

_What's wetter the more it dries?_

Something sparked inside of Stiles, a memory.

_He was sitting on the dusty floor of the warehouse library, next to Lydia. Sunlight streamed in through the windows as they flicked through heavy, old tomes._

_"Hey Stiles," Lydia asked, "What's wetter the more it dries?"_

_"I don't know," Stiles rolled his eyes, "What is?"_

_Lydia smirked, "A towel."_

_Stiles clapped sarcastically, "How brilliant. Did you come up with that yourself or did Isaac help you?"_

_"Rude," Lydia stuck her tongue out at her friend, "wait I've got another one. Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?_

"A towel," Stiles said. Rhys clapped,

"Well done!" he said energetically.

"Now get me out of here."

"Your wish is my command," Rhys stood up and dusted off his trousers. He offered Stiles a hand but the boy ignored it, instead getting to his feet by himself. Rhys wordlessly led him to one of the metal walls, and the moonlight dimmed. Stiles' heart beat nervously when Rhys touched the wall.

A panel slid away, revealing long corridors of closed, glass rooms.

"Where are we?" Stiles asked.

"I'll tell you for one last riddle," Rhys said somewhere behind Stiles.

"Go on."

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?"

Stiles blinked, confused, "A shadow," he said without thinking, and turned around. Rhys was gone and the Nogitsune was back, bundled up in his bandages, and he was close, so close Stiles could smell his stinking breath on his face.

***

Derek laid in his bed, facing the wall. He didn't want to move, didn't want to eat. Didn't want to do anything except lay there and feel his heart break, over and over. It was dark in the room thanks to the blinds that were rolled down, and when the wolf closed his eyes he could almost pretend Stiles was laying next to him. Skinny, sarcastic Stiles.

But Derek knew that Stiles were not really there. And the worst part was that Derek didn't know exactly _where_ he was either. A week of searching and nobody found anything, not even a trace of where the human could be. It killed Derek. They inquired in Eichen house, but Stiles was not there.

He was so worried, he just wanted Stiles to be safe. That's all he wanted.

Well, he wanted to kiss him too, but he'd be happy with just his first point.

The wolf sighed and felt his skin prickle. The change was close, and another night of pointless searching was almost upon the wolves. Suddenly, Scott burst into the room.

"Derek! Get up!" he said, eyes wide. Derek could smell the hope on him and he was up in seconds, "There's someone downstairs! Come quick!"

The Alpha, his heart beating fast, didn't ask questions as he sprinted downstairs, the only thing in his mind being _Stiles, Stiles, Stiles..._

His pack was standing around the living room and two newcomers sat on the couch. There were untouched cups of tea in front of them, and they both looked nervous. One of them was a girl with thick curly brown hair and shifting brown eyes, and next to her was a slim boy with wide eyes.

They both smelled like sweat and chemicals and fear.

"Who are you?" Derek demanded, nostrils flaring, and heart beating wildly.

"My name is Hayden Romero," the girl stood up, hand casually resting on her hip, where Derek saw a gleam of a knife, "and this is Corey," she gestured at the boy, "We came here because something happened regarding your friend – Stiles."

"Tell me!" Derek made a step forward, feeling his pulse escalate. The boy put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Have you ever heard of the Dread Doctors?" Corey asked quietly, staring at the ground. Everyone's heads turned towards him,

"No," Allison said gently.

"They're...t-they...," Corey bit his lip, "the Doctors were once human, scientists who worshipped the supernatural. They uncovered the secrets of electromagnetism-"

"Look," Lydia said, "we don't need a science lesson."

"Right."

"The Doctors created us," Hayden interrupted, "they turned us from weak humans into supernatural beings. Chimera's, a cross between two creatures," the pack exchanged glances, but Derek couldn't care less if Hayden was a fucking unicorn as long as she told him where his mate was, "and for a moment we thought it was a blessing-"

"We have a pack," Corey said, "our Alpha is Theo Raeken. But...he's turning bad. And he's dragging the rest of our pack with him."

"What does this have to do with Stiles," Derek growled. Hayden and Corey looked at each other.

"He was brought in a week ago," Corey said quietly and Derek tensed, "The Doctors kept him in the basement w-with w-with-" the boy swallowed. Hayden sighed,

"A Nogistune."

"A dark spirit," Lydia whispered, eyes wide. Derek didn't understand.

"He came back out yesterday," Corey whispered, "He is the darkest creature I've ever seen in my life. There's so much death rolling off of him-"

"Enough," Derek snapped, unable to stand someone talking about Stiles like that, "the sun is setting. Take us to him."

↮

The wolves ran in a pack, Hayden and Corey drove ahead of them in their car. The roads were dark, deserted and the air smelled like trouble. Derek's skin tingled but in his wolf form he cared about little more but Stiles. His wolf wanted to save him, to be near him again.

Beacon Hills seemed further than usual, and when the pack slipped in a hole of the fence surrounding Eichen House, they really felt the chill of the night. It was silent, the windows pitch black. A scream echoed somewhere from the inside, and Derek shuddered.

Hayden and Corey nervously led them through a back door, down into the basement. The corridors were narrow and damp, wires and pipes running against the walls. Derek saw his pack shift. They all hated being underground, they were creatures of the wild, open spaces, not of confined rooms, but right now they had no choice.

They entered through a swinging double door into what looked like a dirty, ruined and unsanitary operating room. The lights were flickering, illuminating the empty patient beds, stained with blood, and the many syringes and other medical equipment that littered every other surface.

A man was strapped to one of the beds – unconscious. Erica sniffed at him.

_Sheriff._

"They didn't do anything to him," Corey blurted, "y-yet."

" _Save him_ ," Derek projected through his mind, trying to string sentences together. The wolves turned to face him, " _Isaac, Allison, Erica – hospital. The rest, Stiles_."

The three wolves assigned bit at the leather straps keeping the Sherriff down and soon enough they were dragging him out the way they came. Derek hoped they were safe, but his mind was on Stiles. He could smell him faintly under all the medicine and death.

"He's downstairs," Hayden said.

"Hayden." A boy stepped out of the shadows, glaring, "and Corey. Of course. I should've known."

"T-Theo!" Corey stuttered, and stumbled back. Derek stepped in front of him and growled at the other Alpha. The boy smirked,

"Well done. You found the Hale Pack – what now?"

"Don't you see?!" Hayden spluttered, "the Doctor's are crazy, you saw what they did-"

"Shut up!" Theo roared, his eyes flashing amber, "there is a higher cause! Stiles is just another ally to our cause!"

"What cause?!" Hayden asked exasperated.

 _Too long, Stiles_ , Derek thought desperately. He needed to find his fucking mate.

It seemed to grow darker in the room, and loud breathing filled it suddenly. Hayden gasped and Corey cowered away as figures entered. There were three of them, tall, dark creatures dressed in long leather cloaks with masks over their faces, each different from the other. Derek shuddered, feeling the darkness radiating off of them.

"DerEk HaLE," one spoke in a broken, machine-like voice, "wE hAVE bEeN waITing."

Derek growled, lowering himself into a defensive stance, and his pack followed. Without warning, Scott lurched forward at Theo, who stumbled back, not expecting the sudden attack. The boy's eyes turned yellow and he snarled, striking at Scott with his elongated claws.

"jOIn us," one of the Doctors, the one who looked like a Surgeon, spoke, "oR yoUr pEOplE diE."

Derek hissed out a warning.

_Stiles._

 The Surgeon cocked his head to the side,

"He IS fREe tO lEavE aNYtiME he WAnts."

Derek blinked, not understanding.

"It's true," Stiles spoke from the darkness. Derek hadn't smelled him but he didn't care. He started forward with a happy yelp. The human stepped out of the shadows and the wolf froze. But he wasn't exactly _human_ anymore. His hair was a mess, his skin paler. He looked sickly but his eyes-

His eyes looked inhumane, cold and hard, with dark shadows underneath them, and red veins decorating the whites. There was a dark aura around him, and the pack reared back, whimpering, and Stiles smiled slowly.

Derek lowered his stance and bared his teeth. It wasn't _Stiles._

"Derek," the creature wearing Stiles' face said happily, "How nice of you to come see me. Came to die?"

 _Run._ Derek thought desperately, and his wolves broke away, springing back the way they came and Derek was close behind, having to protect his pack.

Stiles was gone, gone, _gone..._ and he left this cold, cruel corpse behind. Derek's heart shattered into a million pieces. Feeling like the weight of the world just crumbled on top of him. He turned on his heel and bounded out, through the tunnels and out into the cold night. It was raining, the droplets melting in his fur. Derek howled his agony.

***

The sheriff was behind the glass, looking kinda dead, his eyes closed. He was alive though, Derek could smell it. Despite all those tubes attached to him, the sheriff was still alive. _Maybe Stiles isn't._

"Der," Erica was at his side. She wasn't wearing any makeup, instead looking weary and tired. She wore one of Boyd's oversized hoodies, "you need to go home and rest."

Derek shook his head, "I...I don't know what to do," his voice was rough. Erica put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed,

"She's right," Isaac was on Derek's other side, "if you don't sleep then you'll be useless in the fight-"

"There will be no fight," Derek growled, tensing. Even as he said it, he knew he was being an idiot. Of course there would be a fight, he just hoped to God that it was a fight _for_ Stiles, and not against him. Eventually, the Alpha let his beta's drag him back home. He slept restlessly.

_In his dream, Stiles was sitting on his bed and it was the middle of the night. Despite this, Derek was human. He could feel that he was human. Stiles was wrapped up in one of Derek's shirts, looking cold and lost and confused._

_"Stiles?" Derek asked softly, wanting to reach out to him. But he couldn't move. Stiles shuddered, and when he looked up again, his eyes were all black._

_"Came to die?" he asked as an inky tear rolled down his cheek._

Derek woke up feeling like someone had knocked the breath out of him. Sluggishly, he pulled himself out of his bed and dragged himself to the bathroom. When he caught sight of his reflection he winced. His hair was a mess, his beard growing out too much. There were dark bags under his eyes. Derek sighed and reached for a razor.

When he went downstairs, clean shaven, Derek saw his pack lounging around on the couches, half-buried beneath tomes and tomes of old looking books.

"Derek," Lydia sighed in relief when she saw him and stood up to hug him. Her touch gave him comfort, but it was Stiles that Derek really wanted.

"What is this?" he asked quietly. His voice sounded as if he had swallowed a cheese grater.

"Kira brought some books," Allison flicked a page of one, "to help us with the situation."

Derek didn't say anything as he slid onto the couch next to Scott. The boy was trying to concentrate on the words on the page, but they were bleached and faded, and hard to read. Derek took it from him, and his eyes scanned the page.

 _The dark Japanese spirit, also known as the Nogitsune, has the ability to bestow mass hallucinations upon large groups of people, alongside being able to feed on negative emotions such as pain, chaos and strife. The fox spirit_ _can possess its primary host and, through the use of flies that come from within the host body, possess others..._

"So Stiles is this...Nogitsune?" Derek asked, feeling his throat go dry.

"Yeah," Erica put down a book, "and all these stupid books tell us is what he is, and not how to help him."

"We just have to keep looking," Allison said, though she didn't sound convinced. _How much time do we actually have?_  Derek thought, _Stiles could be dead. We don't have time. We don't, we don't-_ the nervousness was palpable in the room, and Derek could taste it, bitter on his tongue. Still, he and his pack continued looking. The Alpha's eyes started hurting after an hour, he was sore after three. And still all they knew was that Stiles was a Nogitsune. Isaac had fallen asleep, curled up in Erica's side. Derek felt the horrible urge to wreck the loft. He just felt so _helpless._ He hadn't felt like that since his house went up in flames, since he was cursed.

The wolfs transformed, just like every other night. They bounded outside and once again Derek's emotions became simple, and heightened.

_Fear. Stiles. Anger. Fear. Fear. Stiles. Confusion. Stiles. Stiles. Stiles..._

Derek couldn't think straight. His wolf was going _ballistic_ running through the woods, trying to find Stiles. In this state, the Alpha didn't understand that his mate was gone, that he couldn't smell him anymore. All he could smell was rot and fear and darkness. Lydia bounded after him, close on his heels, following, making sure he was alright. But he wasn't. He wasn't alright.

In the morning, the wolves transformed among the trees, and shrugged their clothes back on. Derek's cuts and scratches he acquired during the night quickly faded and soon disappeared. When the pack stumbled into the house, exhausted, they were surprised to find Malia, Liam and Kira waiting for them, sitting nervously on the edge of the couch.

"What is it?" Derek could sense the tension in the air. The trio looked ready to pass out, dark circles underneath their tired eyes.

"I...we think we found a way to save Stiles," Kira said. Derek felt his heart clench but her voice sounded nervous and he didn't let himself hope too much. Liam, on the other hand, was more confident.

"It's pretty easy, a spell of sorts," he said, leaning back on the couch and regarding Derek with curious eyes, "we need an Alpha to give up his power, a kitsune for energy, and a druid."

"What the hell are you guys trying to do?" Isaac looked sceptical.

"Trying to save _our_ friend, pretty boy," Malia spat.

"Do we have all those things?!" Scott was practically jumping up and down with hope, "the druid and stuff."

"Well, I'm a Kitsune," Kira said quietly, her hands digging into the couch, "and Deaton is a druid emissary, which will do...I suppose."

"The Alpha," Derek cleared his throat, feeling his heart pound in his chest, "you mean me." It wasn't a question. Malia bit her lip and nodded, "Right," Derek was ready, "I'll do it."

"You will have to lend your strength," Kira told the pack, "it won't kill you, just weaken you."

"I'm in," Lydia said immediately, no hesitation.

"Me too," Scott added. The others didn't have any objections, all eager to save Stiles. It warmed Derek's heart. Malia was still looking at Derek,

"You do realize this means giving up being an Alpha?" she asked, as if Derek was stupid, "you'll lose your powers, you won't be the head of the pack-"

"I don't care," the words tumbled out of Derek before he could stop them, "I just want Stiles to get out of this alive."

"Right," Malia looked unsure for a second, "there's another thing."

Isaac groaned. Boyd gave him a look. Kira looked slightly uncomfortable.

"There's...," it was Liam who spoke, as he fiddled with his jumper nervously, "there needs to be someone...err, someone who loves Stiles-"

"We _all_ love Stiles," Erica looked unimpressed.

"No, you don't get it," Malia rolled her eyes, "someone who's _in_ love with Stiles needs to be there, to bring him back. Like mutual love," Malia looked at everyone's faces, "Like a _boyfriend._ "

"Stiles doesn't have a boyfriend," Boyd said. Everyone else was staring at Derek, who suddenly felt nauseous. _He doesn't even know he's my mate!_ He wanted to shout, _he doesn't love me..._ Lydia sensed his distress.

"There was a boy," she said, "in the woods. He and Stiles...there might be something there."

Derek felt really sick then. And angry. No, furious. His wolf paced around inside him nervously and growled and twitched and clawed at Derek's heart, demanding that the man find Stiles' 'boyfriend' and rip his throat out. But of course he didn't do that. Because this boy was possibly their only chance.

↮

"...so what you're telling me," the boy sitting across from them – Jackson – raised an eyebrow, "that you're all cursed werewolves. And she's a fox," he glanced at Kira nervously.

"Yes," Lydia was smiling sweetly though Derek could sense her annoyance. Or maybe it was his own annoyance, "And we need your help to save Stiles. You know him right?"

Uncertainty flickered through the boys' eyes and Derek felt a sudden guilty hope in his heart; maybe Stiles didn't know this boy after all, maybe they were just acquaintances...

"Yes," the smirk that appeared on Jackson's face made Derek want to murder him brutally, "I know Stiles _very_ well."

"So you'll help us?" Kira perked up. The rest of the pack sat behind her, poker faces on. Derek didn't know what they were thinking but he could smell their mistrust. The two kids from Eichen were there too; Corey looked unsure and reeked of nervousness, Hayden was all anxiety. Derek wondered if the others could sense his anger.

"Yeah," Jackson leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable, "I'll stay," his eyes slid to Derek, and the Alpha sensed a challenge. He was ready to step up to it, he was ready to show Jackson just who he was, and what power he had. He was ready to show that Stiles was _his._ But then a small voice piped up in the back of his head.

_Stiles is human. Jackson is human. It was never meant to be, leave them in their peace. Save Stiles and leave him, so he doesn't get hurt again._

With his heart clenched, Derek backed down.

↮

They waited until the one night in the month when the seven werewolves were in their human forms for twenty four hours to return back to the tunnels of Eichen House. But before that night it was a week of torturously slow waiting. Derek craved the nights he got to spend in his wolves body because the emotions that assaulted him were intense, but at least they were clear. Even if Derek didn't know what he wanted, his wolf sure did. And it wanted Stiles. _So badly._

The doors leading to the basement of Eichen house looked like two empty eye sockets, jarring and open and watching as the wolves shifted into humans with hungry, blind eyes. Derek shuddered as he smelled all the death and darkness, but he was not ready to back down. Not this time. He ran from the flames that consumed his family, but he would not run from this. He promised to protect Stiles, and Stiles was pack.

"Right, so what do I do?" Jackson had the decency to look unsure as he looked up at the mental asylum, haunted, surrounded by mist.

"Nothing," Derek growled, "stay back. Don't get killed. When you see Stiles just talk to him."

"You must be there for Stiles," Deaton said. He looked calm, with no weapon, just standing there among the wolves.

"Right," Jackson said sourly. The werewolves were all uneasy on their feet, ready for the action to start. Kira unsheathed her katana, Hayden had a gun, Corey a baseball bat. The rest had claws.

"Alright," Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder, and her eyes flashes gold, "Let's do this."

It smelled like rot and corpses. Derek slipped into the darkness first, forever the Alpha, and his pack filled in behind him. Fourteen of them, their footsteps were quiet, but to Derek they sounded way too loud. His eyes were strong enough that he could see where he was going, and what was around him. Pipes and water. His claws slid from his fingertips on their own accord. His wolf was ready for blood.

"So do we-" Jackson started.

"Shush!" Malia said somewhere in the back, "Shut up."

Derek loved her for that. They walked in silence, single file. Water dripped from the pipes, and rushed through them. Derek could hear it. Somewhere above them was Eichen itself, with its cramped cells filled with crazy people. Derek thought they were crazier, going up against a thousand year old dark spirit and a bunch of resurrected doctors, and God knows what else.

The doctors were waiting in the abandoned operating room. The green-ish light flickered, almost nervously.

"DeREk haLE," one of them spoke in its raspy, mechanical voice. Derek couldn't see its eyes through the gas mask. Theo was there too, smirking,

"Have you come to die?" he asked.

"No," the growl was ripped from Derek, "I'm here to kill you and take back Stiles."

"hE'S n0T hEre," one of the other doctors spoke, "tHE n0GiTsune C0nSUmeD hIm. STiLes iS g0Ne."

The words rattled Derek, but he didn't let that show. Erica snarled, her face morphing. The werewolves wolfed out, their claws and fangs came out. Derek's eyes turned red and he just felt _rage._

Scott lunged at the closest doctor, but the thing stepped out of the way. On cue, all the wolves hurled forward, snarling and growling, claws slashing. The doctors were wielding knives and scalpels, but mostly they were just jumping away from the attackers.

Corey and Hayden were near the back, protecting Jackson, who looked freaked out. Derek wanted him to run, to leave. But instead he just jumped head-first into the fight. The Surgeon met him, his raspy breath coming through his mask. Derek raked his claws against the mask, and sparks flew, but no marks were met.

"YoU caNNoT beAt us," the entity whirled out of the way of Derek's furious claws, "We ARE sTroNG."

"So are we," Derek snarled. Erica and Isaac were engaged with the Pathologist, but they were having no more luck than Derek. The Doctors were paranormal, supernatural, they were too fast. Kira, Malia and Liam were all pushing Theo back.

Suddenly, the Surgeon pulled out a cane, seemingly from nowhere. It glinted dangerously in the low light, and then the fight truly began. Derek was forced backwards as the Doctor swung the cane in the air, trying to catch any exposed part of the Alpha. He wanted to kill. Derek's instincts kicked in, and he pushed forward, matching the Doctor hit for hit. His claws caught the cane, but the Doctor wrenched it free. Derek's heart was pounding, his emotions narrowed down to just this moment.

"Y0u CANn0T Beat US," the surgeon repeated. Derek slashed forward, but it did nothing to the Doctor. It's like he was immune.

"They're not dying!" Isaac stated the obvious as he jumped away from the creature. Theo was laughing.

"ThERE aRe BiggEr ThinGS," the Geneticist informed them, "ThEre is The BeAST."

That made Derek miss a step, "What beast?!" he demanded, "Stiles?"

"N0," it was the Pathologist speaking. The fight stopped. The doctors faced the werewolves, who were breathless. Theo was glaring, "ThE BeAST 0f GevauDAn."

" _No_ ," it was Kira's voice, panicked. She looked terrified, "The beast...it can't be...where is it?!"

"Right here, darling," Theo was smiling as if he just heard the joke of the year.

Derek knew that was true. The beast, whatever it was, was not here before. The darkness he felt before came from Stiles, but it was stronger now. There was more darkness, more death. Derek just wanted to take Stiles and burn the place to the ground.

With a roar of fury, he threw himself back at the Surgeon. The Doctor didn't see it coming, and Derek's claws pierced right through him. Derek didn't know what came over him, but he was burning with anger suddenly, with power. When he withdrew his claws, the blood on them was black and icky. The Surgeon let out a raspy breath and with shaking, mechanic hands, it reached up to remove the mask.

Underneath it was the worn, leathery face of an old man. He looked like a skull, with skin pulled over it, with practically blind eyes. The wolves stumbled back from him when he reached out.

"The beast...," the man said, in a wispy, frail, _human_ voice. And then he fell forward and died. When Derek looked up, the other two Doctors were gone, and he and his pack were alone with Theo in the abandoned operating room. The water dripped down the hallway.

Theo looked pale, "Please-"

Hayden was the one to end him, fast and ruthless. He was weak without the doctors.

"What the hell?" Erica managed finally, looking around the room. Derek's claws retreated.

"I don't want to be here," Jackson informed them.

"You're our only hope," Lydia said. Allison went over and picked up the Surgeon's cane. She looked at it, and then broke the tip off. She pocketed it.

"What now?" Corey looked tense, "the Doctors are gone but Stiles-"

"We find him, and we perform the spell," Derek looked at Kira, who nodded. There was a japing mouth to another tunnel to their left, and a coldness crept from it. If they went there, there would be no turning back, "I'm going," Derek told everyone. He narrowed his eyes at Jackson, "You may stay, _human._ "

Jackson glared, "Nah, I'll come," he grumbled. _Don't challenge me,_ Derek wanted to tell him. Instead he entered the tunnel. Once again, they were in damp, dirty darkness. Allison was directly behind Derek, and her presence soothed his wolf. His pack was with him, they were strong together.

When they came out this time they were out in a garden, in the night. And it was snowing.

"What the-" Malia's breath made a cloud in front of her face as she looked up at the full moon in the skies. Soft petals of snow fell from the abyss, and swirled to land in the hair of the wolves.

"It's not real," Lydia breathed, and shivered, "it's an illusion."

A slow clap sounded from the shadows around the corners of the garden.

"Aren't you a bright one," Stiles, no, the Nogitsune, stepped from the darkness. Derek's heart twisted. It _looked_ like Stiles, with his dishevelled hair, and whiskey coloured eyes. But it smelled all wrong, like rotting bodies. There was a darkness around the boy, a darkness that was not there before.

"What do you want from Stiles?!" Malia demanded. The Nogitsune cocked his head to the side and smiled as if the girl was amusing,

"He is just a shell. A body," it said, "I won't need him soon."

"Let him go," Kira's eyes blazed amber as she unsheathed her katana.

"Oh please," the demon mocked, "that thing won't kill me." He advanced towards the girl suddenly, and she stumbled back through the snow. Derek stepped forward, but the Nogitsune was already in front of her. His hand gripped the sharp edge of her sword, and he squeezed. No blood came from the wound that opened on his palm, and underneath was just swirling darkness, "I'm a thousand years old," he smiled, "you can't kill me."

With a wave of his hand, Kira was sent crashing into the wall.

"Kira!" Malia screamed and ran to her friend. The Nogitsune tutted, unamused,

"Really," he turned in a circle, taking everyone in, "I expected something more," his eyes slid to Derek, "the famous Hale pack," the demon walked up to the Alpha and it took everything in Derek not to flinch away, "Does Stiles know you're in love with him?"

"He will when you let him go," Derek growled. The Nogitsune laughed,

"You don't get it, do you?" he laughed, "Stiles is dead."

Erica lunged at him, but the Nogitsune spun away,

"Riddle me this, Derek," he sang, "Everyone has it, but nobody can lose it. What is it?"

"Get out," Derek hissed.

"I quite like it here," the Nogitsune smiled grotesquely, and patted his own chest affectionately, "I'm sure you'd like it too. But enough with the chat. I'd like to introduce you to my pet."

The monster melted from the shadows, as it was a shadow itself. A massive beast, like a boulder, with glowing white eyes full of menace.

" _Fuck_ ," Jackson swore. Derek's claws extended and he snarled.

"Start the spell," he said to Deaton, who helping Kira up. As one, the seven werewolves of the Hale pack lunged forward, at the shadowy mass of the monster. Derek was aware of each of them as he himself slashed at the monsters legs. His claws passed through him as if he was shadow and Derek's heart plummeted to the ground. Somewhere the Nogitsune laughed.

"Don't stop attacking!" Derek yelled. Erica vaulted up and tried to smash the monster's head in, but it was as if she was trying to fight smoke. When the monster attacked however, he managed to throw Lydia into the wall. Boyd yelled in defiance and threw himself into the shadowy mass. It was no use, they circled the beast and slashed and hacked, and Malia helped and Corey and Hayden and Liam, but it made no difference. They were battling an illusion, and all the while the Nogitsune was laughing madly.

"Derek," Allison was at his side, breathless. There was a line of blood coming from her forehead, "the crane. The crane the Surgeon had."

"What?!" Derek didn't understand. He ducked under the Beast's fists as it passed overhead and tried to rake it with his claws, to no avail.

"The crane!" Allison looked feverish, "It can save us! It can beat him!" She was holding the tip that had been o it.

"Go then!" Derek yelled, not knowing what he was calling for. His heart was pounding, blood rushing through his veins, laced with adrenaline.

Allison nodded and then she was off and Derek was taken up with the Beast again. Even with his werewolf superpower he was draining, and quickly. The place was doing something weird to him, making him weak and tired. He slashed on though, and it made no difference.

Kira was off to the side, shielding Jackson, and burning like a beacon. Deaton was next to her, chanting under his breath, his eyes closed. Derek got just a glimpse of them before he was involved in the fight once again, fighting on and on and on.

" _NO_!" the shout came from the Nogitsune. Allison looked ready to pass out on her feet, and she was yielding the stone off the Surgeon's crane. It seemed to glow in the gloom of the illusion, and the Nogitsune looked _furious,_ twisting Stiles' face in anger. The demon hurled himself at Allison and she just managed to stumble away.

Lydia attacked the Nogitsune, knocking him to the ground, and jumping to her feet. The demon reappeared behind her in smoke. Allison was fumbling for something in the snow, and Derek realized it was a bow. He had no idea how it got there.

With trembling hands, Allison fixed a small, gleaming pike that she had taken from the cane to one of the arrows. She was trembling. Derek had to roll away from one of the Beast's feet and when he looked up, Allison had the arrow notched. She closed one eye, the beast reeled away from her, scattering the wolves.

Derek's breath made a cloud in front of his face. The snow fell. Allison let the arrow loose and Derek watched, as if in slow motion, as it swirled through the air, and pierced hard and true into the beast. Its roar was inhuman and caused everyone to fall to the ground. In a blast of shadow, the monster was gone, and there was nothing left of it.

"NO!" the Nogitsune screamed, "NO!" its eyes were burning.

"Derek!" Deaton called. He had one of Kira's hands in his, taking her energy. Derek was at his side in seconds, and he nodded. Deaton grabbed his shoulder.

"You can't kill me!" the Nogitsune screeched at them, "I'm a thousand years old."

Deaton started chanting and Derek fell to his knees, feeling all his strength leave him in one horrible gust. _I'm not an Alpha. I'm not an Alpha._ He thought as he felt his power drain. A light filled the illusion, his pack shielded their eyes.

It was over in seconds, and Scott helped Derek to his feet. He was unsteady, weaker. But he was still a werewolf. The Nogitsune was in a ring of burning runes, unable to move past them.  

"What now?!" it laughed humourlessly, "You're a fool, Derek Hale. You gave up your power and for what?! You can't beat me!"

"Jackson." It was Malia speaking.

"Stiles, look," Jackson stepped forward, looking unsure. The Nogitsune's head snapped to the side, to look at the human,

"Stiles isn't _here_ ," his voice sounded inhuman, possessed, his eyes black. Jackson stumbled back,

"No, no, no," he whimpered, and then he whirled in the snow and dashed into the tunnel. Derek watched in disbelief as he disappeared, the Nogitsune laughed. Erica cursed. _It's all lost._

 _"_ The circle will slowly suck your power out," Deaton informed the Nogitsune, "until you're no more than a little angry spirit."

"You're pathetic," the Nogitsune smirked, "you all think you could beat me. You're nothings, just a pack of cursed wolves. This won't change anything. I'm in this now," the demon looked at the ring of light in distaste, "but it won't last forever. This illusion will. You'll all be here forever," he glared at them, "your druid is weak. Your Alpha is not an Alpha. The stupid spell of yours...," he snorted, "it won't do anything. True love, oh please," he turned to Deaton, "You really believed that such a stupid thing could cause my demise? True love, what a joke. A funny, funny joke. True love doesn't exist, it's just pain and death and betrayal, and Stiles knows this," Derek felt like all his strength left him, he was useless, helpless. Looking at Stiles, the monster that took him over, it all seemed to hopeless, "Your stupid spell _can't beat me._ "

Derek had no idea what possessed him. He just moved on his own accord, through the snow. He felt like he was holding his breath but he was sure he was breathing.

" _Derek_ ," someone called. The Nogitsune's smile melted right off of his face and his eyes widened as Derek passed through the circle of runes. Without a warning, the man took Stiles' face in his hands and kissed him.

Stiles' lips were soft. They tasted like blood.

A powerful gust of air threw Derek backwards and then there were shadows swirling through the air and someone screamed. Derek squeezed his eyes shut against the offending wind, his heart pounding.

When he looked up again, they were all standing in the parking lot behind Eichen House. The building was behind them, dark and asleep, and the woods started a few meters away. A lone van was parked in one spot, and Stiles stood in the middle of the lot.

His eyes were wide, his face pale. His flannel was ripped a little bit and he looked unsteady on his feet.

"Stiles," Lydia breathed and then she smiled brightly, a helplessly happy laugh bubbling in her throat. Derek's heart clenched, and he couldn't move. He just stared at Stiles. Slowly, the younger boy seemed to realize what happened. Derek could sense all his emotions; pain, horror, fear, anxiety. His gorgeous whiskey-coloured eyes filled with tears.

Derek couldn't stand it.

"I'm so sorry," Stiles whispered, sounding horrified. He looked at his hands, pale and shaking. Derek walked towards him and gathered the boy up in his arms. For a moment he didn't care that Stiles was a human and he was a werewolf, he didn't care that he gave up being an Alpha, he didn't care about anything, anyone, just Stiles, safe and warm and alive in his arms.

He was surprised when the boy hugged him back fiercely, clinging onto him like a lifeline.

"Derek, Derek, Derek," he mumbled feverishly. Derek held him impossibly closer.

"Shh, it's alright."

Stiles was trembling like a leaf and yet his embrace was strong. Derek smiled and leaned his forehead against the shorter boy's, clutching him close. Allison came over and gently slid her arms around Stiles. When he pulled away slightly, he was smiling, but there were still tears in his eyes. Lydia came next, and then Scott and Erica, and Boyd and Isaac. Kira and Malia and Liam followed, and then the rest of the group until they were all just one massive hug, with Stiles nestled safely in the middle. Derek could hear his heartbeats all around him, strong and alive, but he sought out Stiles and listened to it until his own calmed down. Lydia laughed, and suddenly they were all laughing, and then Stiles passed out, and Derek carried him to the car.

 ↮

When Stiles woke up, he was staring up at Derek's familiar ceiling, huddled in Derek's familiar blankets. The sky was amber with the sun setting outside. When he realized where he was, he relaxed. His nightmare was over, because that's what it had felt like. Like sleep paralysis, like knowing you're you but being unable to control your body. Stiles spent days battling the Nogitsune in his brain, fighting for control over his own person. And he would have lost if it wasn't for the pack. And Derek. Derek.

Derek.

_Derek._

"Derek?" Stiles' voice was just a whisper.

"I'm here," Derek must've fallen asleep in the chair and he sat up now, dishevelled and confused. Stiles had never seen anything better, and when Derek smiled at him, he felt his heart melt.

"Derek I-"

"It's alright," Derek said, "we'll talk later," he glanced at the window, "I'm about to change."

"Alright," Stiles forced himself into a sitting position, even though he felt like he would puke.

"You should rest," Derek sounded alarmed. Stiles just shook his head and when he finished, in Derek's place was his wolf. Stiles smiled and slipped from bed. He stumbled a little bit, but Derek was there to steady him. Stiles buried his hand in his fur and let him lead him downstairs, where the rest of his pack flocked him, to lick at his hands and face.

They all went outside, into the cool, crisp night, and then Stiles' heart plummeted to the ground. Standing in front of the trees, with an insufferable smirk on her face, was Kate fucking Argent.

"Thought I saw the last of you," the woman's smirk widened, as if she enjoyed the plot twist. Stiles wanted to be sick.

"Leave me alone," he was weak, swaying on his feet. The wolves around him growled and bared their teeth at the woman.

"Down, dogs," the woman grinned, "I'm here to negotiate."

"What happened to killing me?" Stiles hissed,

"We're getting to that, don't be impatient," Kate sighed. The wolves filed in around Stiles, like a protective wall, "Come on now," the woman smiled almost sweetly, "no need for that. I have no weapons-"

"Why should I trust you? You sent people to _kill me_ ," Stiles said accusingly. Kate looked around innocently, "Don't tell me you don't remember! The blind dick, the homeless assassin and a bunch of _undead doctors_ ," Stiles threw his arms up, "Did I forgot to mention the evil version of Marshmallow from Frozen?"

"Sorry, sugar," she looked bored, "Let's get this over and done with quickly. I have an offer for you," she took out a piece of paper from her pocket, "This is the spell that will end the curse of the Hale pack."

Stiles gaped at her. The pack shifted uneasily,

"H-How do I know you're not lying?" Stiles demanded, "That could be a cookie recipe for all I know."

"I can perform the spell myself," Kate said easily, "I have been trained for it. Right here, right now, your precious wolves can have their lives back."

"And you?" Stiles' mouth felt dry, "What do you want in return."

"You," Kate's eyes narrowed, "I finally want you _dead_."

"What is with that?" Stiles sighed, exasperated, "What did I ever do to you?"

"You ruined my plan. All I wanted was the inheritance, and then you stupid, pretty little boy just had to come along and ruin it all," she growled, "I gave your father to the Dread Doctors. I should have given you to them to. But I'm here now, to do the job myself," she held up the spell, "I will perform the spell, and you'll come with me, and that's that."

"Yes," Stiles said immediately. Derek growled, and his hair stood on end, "It's alright," Stiles gently touched his fur, "It's my choice."

Derek snarled.

"Do the spell," Stiles ordered. Kate inclined her head. Stiles took a moment to bring the wolves' clothes outside, putting them in neat piles with shaking hands. Lydia whimpered, Scott whined, they all looked at him with pleading eyes, "It's alright," Stiles kept repeating with a heavy heart. Kate smirked.

Soon they were ready. Despite Stiles agreeing to the deal, the wolves were restless, snapping their jaws at the woman. Only Stiles was stopping them from attacking her, but their lives back were more important than his. _A moon curse; and she changed into a terrible beast every night._ Chris Argent didn't deserve the pain life gave him, he deserved his daughter back.

Kate's incantations brought Stiles back to the present. She had a weird glow about her as she read, her eyes closed. Derek nipped at his hand and his eyes portrayed everything he wanted to say.

_Don't do this._

Stiles turned away from him. Kate finished speaking in the weird language, and there was a flash of light. The next thing Stiles saw was the wolves in human form, tugging their clothes on, looking dishevelled.

"It worked," Allison said in awe, looking at her hands, "It really worked."

"Stiles don't go with her!" Isaac said desperately, "We'll kill her-"

Kate laughed. Stiles shook his head.

"Come on, pretty boy."

Derek grabbed his hand, and forced Stiles around.

"Don't," he breathed, eyes full of sorrow, "Don't go. Stiles, I can't-"

Stiles tugged him down and kissed him.

"Thank you," he murmured against Derek's lips, and then he broke away. He was halfway to Kate when Derek started running,

"Stiles!" he yelled. Kate raised her hand and an invisible wall put itself in-between them and Derek slammed into it. He pounded it with his fists and shouted curses at Kate, but Stiles didn't turn to him.

"Come on," Kate smiled contently, "We're going to church." She offered him her hand.

Stiles reached into his pocket and calmly he pulled out a gun. Kate's eyes widened a fraction and then Stiles pulled the trigger, not giving her a second to think. The shot echoed through the trees and then there was a hole in Kate's forehead, and blood dripping down her face. The woman looked surprised as she crashed backwards, dead. The invisible wall she just put up shimmered out of existence.

"Go by yourself, bitch," Stiles spat, and then put the gun back into his pocket. Derek was at his side in a second, and he didn't even give Kate's body a second look as he gathered Stiles up in his arms and kissed him, messily and desperately. Stiles let out a shuddery breath against the wolf's mouth and melted into his arms as Derek held him, kissing softening their kiss. It all seemed like it was going to be alright.

↮

Stiles' reunion with his dad was probably one of the most heart-warming things Derek ever saw. There were hugs and tears, and the wolf left the two of them to it in the hospital. He went back to the warehouse, where the rest of the pack waited.

"So," he looked at them, awkward, "I'm not your Alpha anymore."

"Yeah you are," Erica scoffed, "Shut it."

Derek smiled, "What will you all do."

"Well," Erica grinned and took Boyd's hand, "We're going on a holiday to Bora Bora for a while...," her grin widened, "and then we're coming back here of course."

That made Derek relax slightly. Lydia shrugged,

"I'm going to go find that Jackson boy and make sure he didn't die," she said, "but of course, I'm staying here."

"So am I," Isaac stretched out, "but first I'm going to the closest Wendy's. I'm famished."

"Ohhh," Scott grinned, "I'm down for that."

"I'm...," Allison cleared her throat, "I'm going to go f-find my dad...," she shifted, "try and sort everything out," she smiled, "but of course. I'll be back. This is my home."

"I'm glad," Derek allowed himself a smile. The pack filled out soon enough with quick or longer goodbyes, Derek watched them go, feeling his heart clench for some reason. It's not like they were leaving forever, damn, Isaac, Lydia and Scott would probably be back in a few hours. And yet, it still felt weird, seeing them disappear into the evening as humans. Derek felt like he closed a chapter of his life.

He was in the kitchen, making himself a coffee, when Stiles came in.

"Hi," the boy said, awkwardly hovering near the door. The flannel he was wearing was too big. Derek cleared his throat,

"How's your dad?"

"He's...better," Stiles smiled softly.

"And how are you?"

"I'm better too," Stiles averted his gaze.

"You don't have to pretend like everything's alright," Derek said gently, "You were possessed by a demon, of course you're going to be messed up."

"Yeah," Stiles said lamely. The house was quiet, it was just Derek and Stiles. Stiles, standing near the door, bathed in the soft light of the fairy-lights, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?" the boy looked up. _His eyes look like whiskey._

"Can I kiss you?" the words tumbled out before Derek could stop them. Stiles flushed a pretty pink and he bit his lip.

"Yeah, okay," he was looking at the ground again. Derek came over to him, his heart pounding against his ribs, and touched Stiles' cheek. It all felt nervous, shy. When Derek leaned down to kiss the human, Stiles shivered.

The kiss was soft and gentle and tentative, and this time it tasted like chocolate and mint, and made Derek smile. Stiles pulled away after just a few seconds, and pressed his forehead to Derek's.

"I know you're not an Alpha anymore," he murmured, "and I don't need you to be. I don't need you to be anything but you...I-I just...A-Ali told me...a-about the mate thing a-and...," the boy looked up, "I love you. Even if you're not an Alpha."

Derek _couldn't._ His heart felt too big for his chest and in a second he had Stiles up against a wall, kissing him senseless. He slipped his tongue into the boy's mouth and the human didn't protest. Instead he wrapped his arms around the werewolf's neck and pulled him in closer, gasping into his mouth. It turned frantic and heated. Derek held Stiles close and kissed him hard and passionate and-

"Are we interrupting something?"

The two boys jumped apart. Stiles was flushed and breathless, and Hayden had her arms crossed over her chest, eyebrow raised. Behind her, Corey was snickering and Kira was grinning. Malia was looking around, interested, and Liam was already in the kitchen. Each of them was holding a bag.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, collecting himself. Hayden shrugged,

"We're moving in. Duh."

Derek's eyes widened, "No you're not."

"Yeah we areeee," Malia sang. Derek opened his mouth to argue but Stiles tugged him back in for another kiss,

"Just let them," he mumbled with a smile and Derek decided to kiss him instead of argue. Kissing Stiles was better than arguing. Kissing Stiles was better than anything.

Derek supposed it wasn't Stiles and the seven wolves anymore, it was Stiles and a shitload of supernatural creatures. And Derek.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos & Comments are very welcome!  
> ~Fly on


End file.
